


...In Bed

by SurlyCat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Big Brother Gabriel, Castiel Has Secrets, Dean is Not Heterosexual, Dirty Talk, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Identity Issues, Librarian Castiel, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Mutual Masturbation, Piercings, Platonic Cuddling, Recreational Drug Use, Self-Acceptance, but not the bad kind, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-14 01:49:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1248223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SurlyCat/pseuds/SurlyCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester and Castiel Milton met on a rainy summer day over a broken down car. Even though Castiel is nosy and seems to have no filter, Dean still finds himself drawn to the man. Over time they become friends, and over time, Dean falls for Cas, certain that Cas is uninterested. What Dean doesn't know is that his friend hasn't always been quite so tame, and Cas is careful to keep it that way. Who would've thought that a fortune cookie and a childish game would be responsible for bringing out the truth?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The first secret

**Author's Note:**

> Because I wanted Cas with secret wildness, an embarrassing tattoo, the hooptie, and pining!Dean. This won't be a long one, I swear. I'm going to control myself this time :7 And thanks to Snarkymonkey, Kiriei, and October Skyfall for your input...you're all awesome and I love hearing your thoughts! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

The clock on Dean’s tape deck read 4:36 pm when it started to sprinkle as he took a rather overdue lunchbreak; Bobby had practically shoved him out the door, grumbling about labor laws. He knew he should’ve brought his lunch that day, but he was just so goddamned sick of peanut butter and jelly. And now, he’s probably going to be late getting back to the shop because rain makes people stupid on the road; it would’ve been a tight enough crunch just trying to make it down the block to the nearest drive-thru and back on his half-hour break. Scowling, Dean flipped on the windshield wipers and cranked up the defrost before his windows could fog up from the late summer rain.

Not ten seconds later, Dean saw a car pulled onto the shoulder up ahead, hazard lights blinking and hood up. There was a disconcerting cloud billowing up from the front of the car.

He knew it wasn’t his responsibility to help every stranger with bad luck, but as he got closer he saw that the car was…well. Depending on the driver it could be classified as either a granny car, or a hooptie. Considering that it seemed to be sporting its original paint though, Dean was leaning toward granny. Sighing, Dean pulled over into the shoulder behind the broken down car and wrestled his cell phone from his pocket. After a quick call to let Bobby know what was going on and that he would be late getting back, Dean sighed and opened his door, pulling his collar up as he went. At least Bobby didn’t seem pissed.

Now that he was outside, Dean was relieved to see that it was indeed steam and not smoke pouring out of the car, but the relief was short-lived as he worried that the driver might have received a steam burn. Hurrying his pace, he made it to the front of the car, but was brought up short by the sight that greeted him.

 _That_ was certainly not a senior citizen. _That_ was a scruffy man in his 30s, wearing a trench coat and arms wrapped around his middle, scowling at the bowels of his car.

“Hey, uh…need some help?” Dean asked hesitantly.

The man’s frown deepened as he pulled his trench coat tighter around his frame, but he didn’t immediately acknowledge Dean’s presence. The man pursed his lips briefly before letting out a frustrated breath and finally looking up, and holy shit, Dean was not prepared for that. The rain had moved from sprinkling to a light drizzle, so Dean couldn’t tell what color the man’s eyes were, but the way they settled on Dean left him feeling pinned, nonetheless.

“I’m inclined to say no, since I don’t know what’s wrong with it to begin with, and won’t be trying to fix anything myself,” the man replied, voice deeper than anticipated and edged with frustration.

Dean immediately bristled at what he was fairly certain was a smartassed reply, but the slump of the man’s shoulders left him just uncertain enough to bite back his own smart comment.

“Okay. Well, I’m on my lunch right now, but I work at the garage just down the road back there,” Dean said with a jerk of his thumb over his shoulder. “If you want, you can ride back with me and I’ll come back here with the tow truck.”

At this, the man’s eyes narrowed into a squint as he took a calculating look at Dean from head to toe, then looking around him to take in the Impala.

“What’s your name?” the man asked incredulously, seemingly unconcerned about the way the rain was starting to come down harder.

Dean huffed impatiently and took a step forward to extend his hand. “Dean Winchester.”

The man took Dean’s hand in a firm grip, though he still looked a bit uncertain. “Castiel Milton,” he returned, a bit stiffly.

Dean blinked at the strange name, but didn’t comment on it, as the rain was now starting to pour and he wanted nothing more than to get back in the dry cab of his baby.

“So…you coming or not?” Dean asked, pulling his hand back.

“Yes, thank you,” Castiel nodded.

And maybe it was his imagination, but Dean could have sworn he saw a trace of a smirk tugging at the man’s lips. They made eye contact briefly then, and Dean’s suspicion was confirmed that yes, the dude totally just found amusement in Dean’s wording. It was a bit satisfying to find that for once, Dean wasn’t the one laughing at accidental innuendo like the 12 year old he was sometimes accused of being.

A smirk of his own graced Dean’s lips as they jogged to the Impala, but he made sure it was gone before they climbed inside. Once they were both buckled in, Dean turned to look at his passenger and was surprised to see that Castiel’s eyes were in fact, blue. Outside they had seemed much darker, but now that he could get a proper look, Dean was momentarily caught off guard at the depth of the color. He realized he must have been staring when Castiel glanced away, and both men cleared their throats, making the moment much more awkward than it had to be.

“So I was gonna stop up here and grab some lunch real quick and take it back with me. You mind the extra stop?” Dean asked, gesturing toward the restaurant up ahead.

“No, that’s fine,” Castiel replied, running a hand through his wet hair, pushing it back from where it was plastered against his forehead.

“Cool,” Dean answered distractedly, noticing the way the man’s hair seemed to just obey the command of his hand, despite being wet. Distantly, Dean mused that Castiel must have had some kind of product in his hair for it to behave that way.

The short distance to the restaurant seemed to drag as Castiel seemed perfectly content to sit in silence. Not that Dean had expected the man to prattle on like a schoolgirl or anything, but still. Finally, Dean cleared his throat again to speak, and saw Castiel’s head snap up in peripheral, as if startled by the sudden noise.

“So Cas- can I call you Cas?” Dean didn’t take his eyes off the road, but he could feel Castiel’s amused grin and continued on. “What kinda work do you do?”

“Do I make you nervous, Dean?” Castiel asked, a curious lilt in his voice.

“What? Why?” Dean answered a little too quickly, caught off guard at the sudden question.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Castiel shrug one shoulder.

“You’ve begun most of your sentences with ‘so’ or ‘well’, which are usually used at the beginning of a sentence to make it seem more casual,” Castiel said bluntly, turning slightly in his seat to face Dean. Without giving Dean a chance to reply, he continued on. “And I’m a librarian, to answer your question.”

“Huh,” Dean said. Librarian. Well, that would explain the quietness. “No man, you don’t make me nervous. But thanks for the analysis of my conversational skills,” Dean said dryly.

Castiel finally looked away, returning his gaze to look out the windshield. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” he said earnestly.

“It’s fine, don’t worry ‘bout it,” Dean muttered. Despite the dude’s bluntness, Dean got the feeling that he really wasn’t trying to purposely be rude. Maybe he was just one of those that doesn’t have a filter.

Fortunately, they were pulling into the drive-thru at that moment, effectively killing the awkward conversation. The static-y voice that greeted them through the speaker was completely indecipherable, but Dean plowed on ahead, placing his order. When he finished, he turned his head to ask Cas what he wanted and was surprised to see that the man had not only unbuckled his seat belt, but was sliding over in the seat, uncomfortably close. Then the man leaned so far into Dean’s space, he was practically in Dean’s lap as he called out his own order through the driver’s side window.

Taken aback, Dean didn’t even hear what Cas ordered, far too focused on the feeling of Cas’ chest and thigh, where they were pressed against Dean’s side. He only vaguely registered that Cas’ hand was on his headrest, caught up more so on the scent of rain and paper and something subtly warm and fruity, like coconut. It reminded Dean of those quiet rainy days in kindergarten, when the teacher would pull out the construction paper for an extended art period in lieu of recess, or an extra-long story time. Cas smelled like comfort and safety and everything familiar, and Dean was grateful that the man returned to his seat when he did, or Dean might have done something embarrassing like lean in for a better whiff.

“Dude, personal space,” Dean huffed, feigning irritation as he pulled up to the first window.

“I’m sorry, I assumed you wouldn’t appreciate me shouting across you. I can get rather loud,” Cas deadpanned.

The innuendo was tacked onto the smartassed not-apology so seamlessly, Dean wasn’t sure which thing to respond to and decided on ignoring it for now, busying himself with getting their meals paid for. Pulling up to the second window, Dean was shocked as he realized that there were four bags, two drinks, and a milkshake being handed to him; Dean had only ordered a simple combo meal. No wonder Cas had been draped across Dean for so long as he ordered.

“Mwhat? It’s been a bad day,” Cas said at Dean’s disbelieving look.

“Hey, whatever floats your boat. Some drink, some screw, and some load up on fast food,” Dean said with a grin, pulling into a parking space to double-check the contents of his bag.

Cas was already poking around his bags, so Dean took the opportunity to get a better look at the man. There was only so much Dean could see with that baggy trench coat in the way, so he opted instead to look at the little that was exposed, starting with Cas’ hands. And yes, those were some very nice hands indeed, graceful yet strong-looking. Then his eyes darted to the man’s face, where Dean took in a nice straight nose, plush lips, and a somewhat delicate brow line, all balanced with a delicious layer of scruff that Dean maybe wanted to nuzzle into. Just a little bit. Especially at his neck. The thought fell away as quickly as it had formed, though; Dean checked everyone even remotely attractive out and it was mostly habit anymore.

The trip to the garage was- unsurprisingly- quiet, save for the steady drum of rain against the Impala’s exterior. The silence had almost become something comfortable, as Dean was too focused on navigating in the downpour to talk, and Cas had decided to occupy himself with rifling through Dean’s collection of tapes as if it were completely normal to go through a stranger’s things. Dean would’ve been more irritated, if it weren’t for the fact that Cas seemed to be looking at them with genuine interest and without comment. Well, until he came to a particular tape that Dean had mostly forgotten about.

“What does TTF stand for?”

“What?” Dean asked, not grasping the context.

“TTF. It’s all that’s written on this tape,” Cas replied. “Is it a band?”

Dean glanced over to see Cas turning the tape in question over in his hands with a frown creasing his brows. It was gray, unlike the rest of his tapes, which were all black, white, or clear, and Dean recognized it immediately.

“Uh, it’s nothing. Just a mix tape,” Dean answered, perhaps a bit too shortly.

Cas hummed thoughtfully, clearly curious, but catching the hint that Dean wasn’t going to elaborate, and put the tape back in the box.

***

“Go eat, Dean. Not gonna have you trying to drive my equipment in the rain while juggling a burger,” Bobby grumbled, digging around his pocket for his keys.

“Thanks, Bobby,” Dean grinned.

They were nearly shouting at each other to be heard over the downpour hammering down upon the flimsy metal courtesy canopy that hung over the front of the building by the customer entrance. Bobby merely waved him off as he stomped toward the tow truck. It was out of character for the older man to be so charitable as to offer to get out in the rain, but Dean decided to be smart for once and not argue the point.

Walking inside, Dean shivered as the air conditioning hit him, making him much more aware of how wet he’d gotten. When he got to the waiting area, Cas was sitting in one of the rickety old chairs, clearly trying to figure out the best place to set his things down in the admittedly, grubby room.

“Bobby’s gone to tow you in, instead. Come back here to the break room and we can eat at the table while we wait on him to get back,” Dean offered. “The air conditioning vent’s broken in there.”

With a relieved smile, Cas obliged and followed Dean back into the break room. Distracted with his food, Dean didn’t notice Cas removing his coat and nearly choked on the bite of burger he’d taken when he looked up; apparently, Cas had been hiding something quite nice under that damned coat. Instead of the ‘Dad’ outfit Dean had been expecting, Cas was wearing a well-tailored pair of black trousers that clung to the curves of well-muscled thighs, a white button-up with gray pinstripes rolled to the elbow, and a black waistcoat that was just as fitted as the pants. A blood-red tie completed the ensemble, hanging attractively loose around the collar, which was unbuttoned to the second button. And was that…seriously? The man actually had a fucking pocket watch, for Christ’s sake.

Dean darted his eyes quickly back to his food, hoping to any god that would listen that Cas hadn’t noticed him staring. But then the librarian just had to turn around to hang his coat up on one of the hooks behind him, and Dean couldn’t help but get a good look at his back, appreciating first the strong triceps that flexed beneath his shirt as Cas raised his arms, and the firm ass that was framed oh so nicely by those snug pants. Okay, so perhaps this was more than just the casual check-out, but how could he not? Cas was fine as hell, and Dean would be a fool not to get an eyeful.

“Shit.” The word slipped out before Dean could stop it, but blessedly, was more breath than voice.

“Hmmm?” Cas asked, turning around with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, just forgot to ask for pickles,” Dean fibbed.

Cas’ brow didn’t budge from where it was quirked, but he didn’t comment as he sat down and started in on his own meal. Dean got the distinct impression that Cas knew he was full of shit, but was too gracious to call him out on it. They ate in tense silence for a minute- or maybe Dean was just tense; Cas seemed perfectly content digging into his food and humming appreciatively around an obscenely large bite of hamburger.

“So Dean,” Cas smirked slightly, no doubt at his choice of opening. “Why don’t you tell me something about yourself, since I already know what you do for a living.”

“What do you wanna know?” Dean asked lightly. Cas seemed to be trying to make up for his somewhat surly attitude in the car, and Dean appreciated that he was making an effort.

Cas shrugged, dragging a fry through his ketchup. “I don’t know. Tell me a secret; something you’ve never told anyone before.”

“Secrets are secret for a reason, Finnick,” Dean pointed out.

“Oh, good God,” Cas huffed, rolling his eyes. “It’s not like I have anyone to tell; we don’t even know each other. Just humor me, Katniss,” he smirked.

Dean debated with himself, trying to think of something he could share that wouldn’t be incriminating or way too far on the personal side. Coming to a decision, he cleared his throat and leaned forward with his elbows on the table. Cas mirrored the movement, eyes shining with obvious curiosity, almost child-like in his expectancy.

“Alright. When I was 20, I posed nude for some art student’s project for $50. I wasn’t really thrilled about it, but I was broke, and the dude agreed to keep my face out of it. So there ya go. You’re now the only person besides that dude and me that knows,” Dean finished, feeling a slight blush heat his cheeks.

Cas grinned, looking satisfied. “See, was that so hard?” he asked with a quirk of his brow.

Dean couldn’t help but scoff and the seemingly endless capability of this man to make innuendo and rubbed his eyes. _To call him out, or not to call him out, that is the question._ When Dean lowered his hands though, Cas’ expression had gone back to normal, so yet again, Dean was left unsure as to whether the guy was doing it on purpose. Maybe Dean was just projecting his little attraction. Jesus, he needed to get laid, like a month ago.

“Your turn,” Dean said tiredly.

Cas seemed to perk up again, and scratched at his jaw in thought, the sounding rasping loudly in the quiet room. “Ever since I can remember, I always cry during the ‘Baby of Mine’ scene in Dumbo.”

Dean blew a raspberry and gestured a thumbs-down. “Weak. Come on, tell me a real one.”

“That is too, a real one,” Cas said defensively, pouting a bit at the rejection of his ‘secret’. At Dean’s unimpressed look, Cas sighed and shoved an entire jalapeno popper in his mouth, chewing as he thought. After he swallowed, he took a quick sip of his drink and hummed.

“Okay, how about this. When I was in college, I lost a bet to my roommate and had to take pole-dancing lessons.” Cas said the last part quietly, blushing as he picked at his fries with much more interest than they really warranted.

Dean’s sudden bark of laughter startled Cas, but he only allowed himself to glance up briefly before picking at his fries again.

“That’s not all though, is it?” Dean asked knowingly, leaning back smugly in his seat. “If it were just the lessons, it wouldn’t be so bad, am I right?” he said with a waggle of eyebrows.

Cas’ shoulders stiffened and he looked off to the side, clearly uncomfortable with sharing any more. The tiny frown working its way between his eyebrows was actually kind of adorable, but Dean didn’t push him on it. Judging by Cas’ reaction, Dean was fairly confident in his assumption that the man had probably had to perform in order to confirm that he’d followed through with the bet, and he obviously didn’t want to talk about it. That fact didn’t, however, stop the mental image of Cas wrapping himself- awkwardly- around a stripper pole from manifesting in Dean’s mind. It probably would’ve been a lot sexier if Dean could even begin to picture the man pulling the stick out of his ass long enough to do such a thing.

Grinning, Dean knocked his knee playfully against Cas’ under the table. “Hey, I’m not gonna bother you about it anymore, so calm down, alright?”

Cas gave him a relieved smile and with that, the two of them went back to their food, eating in companionable silence until the sound of the tow truck pulling up alerted them to Bobby’s return. Wordlessly, both men rose and threw out their trash before going out to the lobby, passing Bobby on his way to the office. Bobby smirked at Dean, but didn’t say a word, the smirk speaking loudly enough.

“If you can stick around for another half hour or so, I should be able to give you an idea of what’s going on and what needs to be done,” Dean informed the other man.

“That’s fine. I’m still waiting on my sister to come get me, anyway,” Cas shrugged, dropping into a seat in the waiting room and taking a sip of his milkshake.

“Alright, well sit tight and I’ll be back in a little bit,” Dean said, already making for the door to the garage portion of the shop.

Sighing, Dean prepared for the worst. Cas had said as much himself that he had no clue about cars, so there was no telling what shape Dean was going to find it in when he got to digging around. Surprisingly, it seemed to be in fairly good condition, and it took minimal digging to discover that it seemed that the fan motor had gone out. Easy enough, then.

Walking back into the lobby to share the news, Dean saw that Cas was on the phone and paused in the doorway, uncertain whether he should come back and give the guy some privacy. But then Cas looked up and gave Dean a ‘one minute’ gesture as he continued his conversation. Figuring he may as well get a head start, Dean went to the computer and started looking up the new fan motor with the distributors Bobby used and pretended not to listen to Cas’ conversation.

“No, it’s fine, I understand. But are you still going to be able to give me a lift to work?” After a pause, Cas rubbed his forehead and sighed.

“Alright…well, I have to get off of here and make arrangements, so I’ll talk to you later,” Cas said in a polite voice that contrasted with the slump of his shoulders.

Hanging up and pocketing his phone, Cas turned to Dean. “Do you happen to have a phone book nearby? It appears I need to call a cab.”

Dean pulled the phone book out from underneath the counter and set it down, glancing at the clock. 5:32 pm. Two minutes past quittin’ time.

As if sensing Dean’s thoughts, Cas’ hand faltered as he started to flip the pages of the phonebook.

“It’s time for you to leave for the day isn’t it?”

“Yeah, here in a minute,” Dean shrugged.

“Sorry,” Cas said, closing the phonebook. “I don’t want to hold you up, and it could take a while to get a cab service, so tell me about the car and I’ll finish this up when you’re done,” he said, pointing at the phonebook.

“Alright,” Dean nodded. “So it looks like it’s the fan motor. We don’t have the part on hand, but we should be able to get it overnighted from the distributor and have you back up and running in about two days.”

Cas nodded and handed over his keys before filling out the necessary forms, while Dean ordered up the part. Done with the forms, Cas pulled the phonebook back over and started leafing through it again, pulling out his phone. After no less than three calls to as many companies, it appeared that none of them would be able to get there for at least half an hour. Dean wasn’t sure why exactly he was standing around watching this stranger figure out his ride situation; it was none of his business, and his workday was over. But something about the tired, dejected look on the other man’s face made Dean feel bad for him. Before Cas could confirm the address to the cab service, Dean reached out and touched the back of his hand to get his attention.

“I’m already on my way out, so why don’t I just give you a ride?” Dean asked.

“Hang on a second,” Cas said into the phone before holding it to his chest and turning his attention to Dean. “Thank you, but you’ve already gone out of your way today and I can’t ask that.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “It’s not a problem, man, and you didn’t ask; I’m offering.”

Cas opened his mouth to protest, and without thinking, Dean reached out and took the phone from his hand, hanging up the call and handing the phone back. Cas’ brow pinched in confusion and Dean realized that he probably shouldn’t have done that; that was something one does with a person they’re familiar with, not a complete stranger. Dean tried to look away, but Cas’ eyes weren’t letting him, rooting him to the spot as they both seemed to be trying to figure out what to say. Mercifully, Cas broke the silence.

“Alright,” he said warily, as if concerned that Dean might be crazy. Dean figured that was fair though, and mentally cringed at his own weirdness.

“Okay. Good. That’s uh…I’m just…I’ll be back out in a minute and we’ll roll out,” Dean fumbled.

A small grin settled on Cas’ face, no doubt amused at Dean’s clumsy attempt at speaking. “Take your time, I’ll still be here.”

Dean appreciated the attempt at lightening the tension and grinned before taking off for the office to let Bobby know he was leaving.

“You takin’ the professor home?” Bobby asked, leaning back in his chair with his hands clasped on his stomach and a smug look on his face.

“Yeah, Bobby, I’m taking the guy home,” Dean said tiredly. “Got something you wanna say?”

“Oh, get your drawers out of your ass, boy,” Bobby rolled his eyes. “Just didn’t think you’d like the bookish type.”

“Bobby, I’m not,” Dean started, but was cut off.

“Save it, Dean. You’re not as slick as you think,” Bobby said with a pointed look.

“How- how long have you known?” Dean asked quietly.

A mighty eyeroll preceded Bobby’s answer. “Oh I don’t know, since you went through your Harrison Ford phase in high school?”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest and looked off to the side. He thought he’d done a pretty good job over the years hiding being bi, but apparently not so much. Shit.

“Look Dean, I don’t care. Just thought you should know that I know, and it don’t matter,” Bobby said more kindly. “Now, get out there and take care of your professor,” he smirked.

“He’s a librarian,” Dean muttered, cutting Bobby a glare when the older man chuckled and made a shooing motion at Dean. Huffing, Dean left the office and went back out to collect Cas, only then realizing that he hadn’t denied his little crush on the other man, having been distracted with the conversation. Excellent. Now he’d never hear the end of it.

“Ready to go?” Dean asked as he walked into the waiting area.

Cas nodded and pulled on the trench coat, much to Dean’s displeasure; he’d grown rather fond of the outfit. Not that Dean had a clothing fetish, not even a small one. Of course not.

Once they got in the car, Dean was more than a little surprised to learn that Cas only lived one street over from him. How had he managed to never notice that abomination of a car around the neighborhood? Cas merely hummed when Dean shared his own address.

“That’s why your car was familiar,” Cas said, more to himself than anything.

This time, Dean anticipated the quietness of the ride and found it much less unnerving than before, even with the revelation of their proximity. But then Cas decided to take it upon himself to dig curiously through the glovebox. Did the guy seriously have no sense of personal space or privacy?

“Dude,” Dean tried to warn, but didn’t quite manage it in time.

“Oh,” Cas breathed, flushing in embarrassment and closing the glovebox quickly as he came across the travel-sized bottle of lube stashed inside.

Normally, Dean would’ve been dying of mortification by now, but it was obvious that Cas was embarrassed enough for the both of them, slouching in the seat and ears red. “Sorry,” he muttered, resolutely focusing on his hands in his lap.

“That’s what happens when you get nosy, Cas. You never know what you’ll find,” Dean said gruffly.

Cas sighed and looked out of the passenger window, quiet for a minute. When Cas finally chose to speak, he turned to Dean with a confused knit to his brows.

“May I ask you something?”

“Sure, but it depends on your question as to whether you’ll get an answer,” Dean said cautiously.

“Why do you have lube, but no condoms?”

Dean choked on his spit and spluttered, not expecting the intrusive question. At least nothing quite so personal. “Christ, Cas! You don’t just ask people that kind of shit.”

At Cas’ abashed look, Dean sighed and tapped his fingers against the wheel. Apparently his earlier assumption of ‘no filter’ had been correct, and now he felt kind of bad for snapping at the man.

“Okay, fine. It’s because I don’t keep them in the car; it gets too hot in the day time and they aren’t supposed to be kept in the heat for long periods of time,” Dean said, eyes focused only on the road.

“So…you keep them in your wallet, where they can be weakened by the constant chafing of the items in the pockets?” Cas asked.

Dean frowned and glanced over to see the quirk of Cas’ brow. “You’re assuming that they’d stay in my wallet long enough to break down. Not that it’s any of your business how often I get laid,” Dean said, eyebrow quirked.

Cas nodded his agreement, flushing again. “Sorry. I’ve been told I’m not always so great at boundaries.”

And damned if the man didn’t just look all kinds of dejected for at least the second time today. The guy may not have much of a sense of propriety, but he seemed like a good person. Just…maybe the kind of person that necessitated a little patience.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, Cas,” he said, pulling onto Cas’ street.

When they pulled into the driveway, Cas unbuckled and sat there quietly for a moment, as if debating something, before settling on a quiet ‘thank you’ and reaching for the handle. For the second day, Dean’s hand moved without his permission and he reached for Cas’ wrist.

“Hold up,” Dean said, not quite sure what he intended to say. It was especially hard to focus when those blue eyes were looking at him with such earnest curiosity.

“You need a ride to work tomorrow?” Dean asked, almost as surprised by his own question as Cas appeared to be. Why had his brain chosen that to go with, of all things? Dean mentally facepalmed because there’s no way he wasn’t looking all kinds of stalker-y, offering this stranger three different rides in one day.

Cas looked at him speculatively for a moment, narrowing his eyes as he considered his words. “I do,” he said slowly, “but why are you doing this?”

 _Yes, let’s just make this as awkward as possible. Of course Cas would ask me a question I don’t have an answer for_ , Dean thought to himself.

“What, a guy can’t do something nice for someone?” Dean asked a bit defensively.

Cas gave a little shrug. “I was just curious. But if you’re offering, then yes, I would appreciate a ride.”

“Alright then. What time?”

“Seven okay?”

“Yeah, that works,” Dean nodded.

Cas gave him a relieved little smile and laid a hand on Dean’s bicep. “Thank you, Dean. I sincerely appreciate everything you’ve done.”

Dean nodded and grinned back, to which Cas gave a little squeeze of his arm before turning and exiting the car. Once he saw that Cas had made it inside, Dean backed out and headed toward his own home, still not sure what to make of the other man. The guy was confusing, sarcastic and innuendo-laden, yet genuine in a way that made it hard to dislike him.

The more he thought about it, the more Dean was pretty sure that Cas was only aware of some of what he was saying, and that he probably wasn’t interested. Truthfully, the thought was disappointing, but Dean could live with it; it wouldn’t be the first or last time that Dean found a man attractive that he couldn’t go near. And besides, Cas was just a stranger, a customer, a person passing through. Nothing to get attached to or spend extra time thinking about, after all.

 

 


	2. Curiouser and Curiouser

It's a good thing that the Impala's windows were rolled up and Cas had his back to Dean as he locked the front door, because he probably wouldn't have appreciated the snort that Dean let out when Cas came outside. Apparently, Dean hadn't been as far off the mark expecting the librarian to have a 'dad' outfit, as he'd thought; Cas was wearing a navy sweater vest with a light blue button up beneath, and freakin' khakis.

Apparently, Dean hadn't hidden his amusement well enough by the time Cas got in the car, because before he even bothered with the seatbelt, he turned a curious look on Dean.

"What? It's too early to be cheerful," Cas said with narrowed eyes.

"Oh, uh, nothing," Dean says, barely keeping the laughter out of his voice. But then he made the mistake of making eye contact with Cas and a chuckle bubbled out.

"That's 'Butt of Joke' laughter, Dean," Cas chided, finally buckling in. "And I don't prefer to be the butt."

Dean cackled at the wording and tried to have a serious debate with himself as to whether they were on friendly enough terms with each other to comment on it. The words came out before he'd finished the debate though.

"Oh, so you're a toppy bastard, huh?" Dean asked through a chuckle, pulling out onto the street.

Cas turned to face Dean, an inscrutable look on his face. "Wouldn't you like to know?" he asked flatly, before turning back around and facing the windshield.

Well, then. That shut Dean right up because he really wasn't sure if he'd offended the other man or if that was a dry flirtation of some sort, and honestly hadn't even considered that Cas would take it too personally. Now he felt kind of guilty and sighed as he pushed in a tape, hoping to fill the awkward silence.

"You know," Cas said suddenly. "I've been thinking about that mixed tape."

"Yeah?" Dean asked, uncertain of where this was going.

Cas nodded in Dean's peripheral. "May I listen to it? I'm curious to know what you would put on a mix."

Dean rubbed the back of his neck.

"Why?"

"Because I want to know what TTF stands for, and I bet I could figure it out by your track selection," Cas replied.

"Who says I want you to know what it stands for?" Dean asked, a bit gruffly. "And how do you know they aren't initials?"

"I just don’t think they are," Cas shrugged. "And I didn't mean to presume."

Dean made a non-committal grunt and focused on the road. It was bad enough that he had a mix of mood music, and he really didn't need it playing in the background like the world's most ironic soundtrack. Cas sunk down into his seat and sighed, the movement reminding Dean of the little fact that Cas had warned him that he had the issue with boundaries.

"Tell you what," Dean said, fairly certain he would regret what he was about to say. "I'll let you listen to it."

Cas shuffled a bit to sit up straighter.

"But you have to tell me a secret for every track that we listen to," Dean finished.

The fact that Cas seemed to look genuinely concerned about whether to take the deal gave Dean pause. Surely a sweater vest-wearing librarian couldn't have anything that interesting to tell. Surely. Dean also ignored the fact that his offer implied that they would see each other again beyond the next couple of minutes left of the commute to the library.

Cas bent over and pulled the tape out of the box and looked at it, brow furrowed in thought as he traced its edges with distracted fingertips.

"If I guess correctly, will you confirm it _honestly_?" Cas asked. But then he frowned and put the tape back. "Never mind. I seriously doubt that the subject of a mix tape is worth some twelve-odd secrets."

"Suit yourself," Dean shrugged, slightly disappointed at the prospect of not learning the near-stranger's secrets.

When they pulled up to the library, Cas unbuckled and turned in his seat.

"Are you going to at least tell me what you were laughing at when I got in the car?"

Dean couldn't help but rake his eyes over the outfit and grinned as he noticed the pleats in the front of Cas' pants. "Nah," he said, winking when Cas gave him a small glare.

"Nah?" Cas huffed. "Fine. I'll take the deal if you also tell me what you were laughing about, by the time I finish the tape."

"Okay, but you're only allowed one guess per track," Dean countered. What the hell was this game, and why the hell was Cas so curious?

The look of tentative victory that flashed in Cas' eyes was a touch unsettling.

"Okay. Deal," he said, sticking his hand out.

Dean nodded and took his hand and they shook on it. Cas then turned, tape in hand, and was about to exit the car when Dean tugged on his sleeve.

"Uh uh. Tape stays with me so I know you aren't cheating by listening ahead," Dean smirked.

Cas dumped it back in the box but made sure that Dean saw his eyeroll. "Fine."

"Good," Dean replied, feeling suddenly awkward.

This was the part where they should probably talk about when this mix would be getting listened to. It didn't help that Cas was also looking around at everything but Dean, undoubtedly having come to the same conclusion. Jesus, it shouldn't be that difficult…it was just a friendly game between two people…who were apparently shit at learning how to make friends.

"So…do you need a ride home later or whatever?" Dean asked, cringing internally at beginning the sentence with 'so'. He'd never even noticed that tendency until Cas pointed it out the day before.

A small amused grin tugged at Cas' lips, confirming that he'd noticed it, but it didn't seem to be mocking. "I would appreciate that."

Then Cas squirmed in his seat, lifting his hips up a bit, and Dean tried not to look as Cas held the position for a second while he dug around in his pocket for something. Dean failed miserably and felt his face heat as he observed that the soft khaki material did nothing to disguise the rather impressive bulge that Cas seemed to have going on in there. The reddening only worsened when Cas grabbed his hand without warning and started writing his phone number on Dean's hand, seemingly unaware of Dean's discomfort.

"Here. Just send me a text when you get here," Cas said around the pen cap between his lips as he wrote. Once he was done, he replaced the cap and put it in his pocket with a second squirm of hips. Christ, enough already.

Dean realized distantly that the pen must have been what Cas had been digging for, but his brain was still caught up on the distinct warmth he could still feel on his knuckles, where Cas had held his hand to keep it steady. He also noted at that moment that Cas was a lefty.

"Okay, I'll let you know," Dean said, snapping back into the moment. "But I won't be able to get here til after you've probably been off for a while," he said, realizing the fault in their plan.

"It's fine. I'm good at finding ways to entertain myself," Cas shrugged.

Dean gave him a long look, but Cas genuinely seemed okay with waiting, so Dean let himself quit worrying about it.

"Alright then," Dean nodded.

With a nod of his own and a tight-lipped smile, Cas stepped out of the car and made his way up the steps into the library as if grabbing random dudes' hands and giving out numbers was perfectly normal. Well, maybe not the hand-grabbing, but phone numbers exchanged between people who need to communicate _is_ perfectly normal.

Shaking his head at himself, Dean took off toward the garage. While it might have been true that Cas was distractingly attractive, the fact remained that he was kind of weird. Not that that had ever been a descriptor to turn Dean off from potential friendships before, but Cas made Dean feel disjointed in a way. Sometimes it seemed like Cas was this quiet unassuming creature, but then others he would get this look or use wording that just couldn't be explained as coincidental.

Pulling up to the garage some ten minutes later, Dean made it a point to push thoughts of Cas to the back of his mind because the last thing he needed was to be distracted while working on the guy's car. It occurred to him then that he needed to get Cas' car working pronto, because whatever thoughts Dean might entertain of friendship or otherwise were completely inappropriate for a business relationship. The sooner he could get this car out of the garage, the better.

***

While some had called Castiel 'nosy' over the years, he preferred to think of it as a healthy curiosity. If there was something he wanted to know, he rarely turned down the opportunity to find out about it. His curiosity knew no bounds, whether it was aimed at a person, a seemingly insignificant piece of trivia, or an entire subject. Just the week before, he'd accidentally spent three hours reading about regional accents in the U.S. and the specific pronunciations of words that can differ between one county and another in some areas. By the time he was done, he couldn't even remember what had spurred that particular curiosity to begin with.

The way Castiel saw it, there was an infinite amount of interesting information to learn in the world, so why not soak it up, if it's there for the taking? And people, he'd decided, were no less interesting than any academic research. However, he had the sense that pinning his interest on Dean might not have been the best idea.

Castiel could be oblivious sometimes, but he was no fool, and he knew that Dean was attracted to him. He would also be lying if he said that he wasn't attracted to Dean as well; the man was an appealing mixture of beautiful and gruff that Castiel rarely came across. He could also admit that maybe he'd had a little bit of fun flirting subtly with Dean, just to get a reaction. That, however, was when he thought he'd only see him maybe once or twice more; just some harmless fun in the privacy of his own mind. Now though, his curiosity had gone and taken over the more rational parts of his brain and Castiel was going to be stuck spending actual time with the other man.

The thing is, it's not that Castiel was naïve or anything of that sort; in fact, he was far from it. He'd spent more than a couple of years in his college days indulging in whatever he pleased and without remorse. Those days were gone though, and even if he did sometimes miss that more carefree time in his life, he'd worked too hard to craft himself into a responsible, professional adult to let that side have reign again. That brash, bold side of him had led to more than a few bad ideas, so it needed to be kept in check and kept as far away from normal people as possible.

And here was where his problem lay. Castiel really did want to get to know Dean, but part of that process involves sharing about yourself as well. It's this particular reason that Castiel has few friends anymore; most of the people that had ever wanted to be friends with him had made the mistake of assuming that his professional title was who he was and didn't seem to care for his company once they realized it wasn't true. He knew he'd screwed himself out of good relationships of all sorts by adopting the quiet professional façade, but he'd been doing it for so long now, he just couldn't stop. Castiel really did love his job and he was good at it, and if a bit of pretending was what it took to hold on to it, then that's what he'd do.

Unfortunately, Castiel was fairly certain that Dean was one of those that doesn't like any sort of boat-rocking, and that probably extended to information about his acquaintances. The man was still using a tape deck for crying out loud, and only seemed to listen to classic rock, at that. So of course the most logical thing for Castiel to do would be to sabotage any potential friendship by starting it on the note of secret sharing. _Yes, let's just kill any chance of knowing Dean before it even begins,_ Castiel chided himself. Stupid, impulsive curiosity.

Castiel's day had been slow enough that up until lunchtime, he'd spent most of it fretting about whether he should just renege on the deal. After lunch though, things picked up and he was so busy that he didn't have time to let his thoughts deviate from his work. In fact, he'd been so absorbed in his tasks that the buzzing of his phone in his pocket startled him into nearly dropping the stack of books in his hands. When he was able to dig the phone out of his pocket, he was surprised to see that not only was Dean there, but that Castiel had worked nearly two hours past his shift. Whoops. Good thing he was salaried.

He only had the time between logging off of the system and walking out to start worrying again, but his nerves were quickly forgotten when he got in the car and looked over. In fact, he felt a sort of stuttering halt to most brain activity when he took in the sight of Dean looking much different than he had before. The man was just in a simple white t-shirt and holey jeans, the shirt streaked with grease stains, hair askew where he'd probably been running his hand through it. Then Castiel noticed the sheen of sweat across the man's forehead and watched just in time for a bead of it to roll from Dean's temple and trail down his neck, disappearing into the collar of his shirt.

Jesus fuck, none of that should be attractive. In fact, it should be disgusting, but Castiel couldn't help imagining peeling off the layers and-

Shit, Dean was saying something, and Castiel had totally missed the first part.

"…but it was just too goddamned hot in the garage to wear the coverall. Got a lot done though, so you should have your car back by tomorrow. But anyway…sorry I'm gross. Won't be offended if you want to keep a window cracked," Dean said, slumping a little in his seat.

Castiel realized he must have been staring, which in turn must have prompted the apology from Dean for his appearance. Oh, but the man couldn't be more wrong.

"No, it's fine," he said, perhaps a bit too quickly. "It's part of your work, and far be it for me to be judgmental of clothing," Castiel said, frowning as he picked at a fuzzy stuck to his sweater vest.

For the first time in years, he was actually starting to feel self-conscious about his attire; Castiel was fully aware that he looked like a dad at an eighth grade band concert, but it hadn't really bothered him until now. It didn't help when he heard a deep chuckle from beside him, but when Castiel looked over, Dean's grin didn't look malicious. Castiel narrowed his eyes in an impression of a glare though, just in case.

"You keep on with that stink eye and your face'll get stuck that way," Dean drawled teasingly.

Castiel sighed and fastened his seat belt, slinking down in the seat. It was really comfortable, and somehow the sun-warmed leather felt good leaching through his clothes, despite the heat of the day. Between that heat and the rumble of the engine, Castiel's eyes drifted closed before he'd realized he'd done it. He hadn't even noticed that they were driving as he'd been lulled by the vibrations and the tiredness he could feel sinking into his bones from being on his feet all day. He startled a bit when he felt Dean's hand land on his arm.

"Hey, we're here," Dean said softly, tilting his head toward Castiel's house.

Apparently he'd done some sort of half-doze thing on the way there and the thought was disorienting; Castiel was not the type to fall asleep around virtual strangers, much less those who held his life in their hands.

"Sorry," he muttered, sitting up and rubbing a hand over his face. "That was rude of me."

"It's okay. You looked tired," Dean shrugged. But then an amused grin crept up on his face. "Did you know you snore?"

"I do not," Castiel said, affronted. He hadn't even been completely asleep, so there was no way he'd been snoring.

"Uh, yeah, you do," Dean argued. "It sounded kind of like a cat purring," he said, clearly trying not to laugh.

Well. That wasn't embarrassing at all. Castiel rolled his eyes more at himself than Dean, but wouldn't be bothered if Dean saw it and took it personally, either.

Dean just smirked and settled more comfortably in his seat, as if waiting for something. Oh, right. The tape. The thing that Castiel had spent all kinds of time fretting over. He realized with some surprise that at the moment, he didn't feel as nervous as he'd expected to and bent over to retrieve the tape from the box in the foot well.

Before he could put it in the tape deck, Dean knocked the back of his fingers against Castiel's hand.

"Nuh uh. Secret first," Dean smirked.

Shit. Castiel hadn't even thought about what secret he might actually share. He pondered for a moment, sifting through any number of memories and personal information before he came up with something even remotely usable.

"I took tap dancing lessons until I was twelve," Castiel finally said.

Dean gave him an unimpressed look and folded his arms over his chest.

"That's not a secret, Cas, that's trivia."

Castiel unbuckled his seat belt and leaned back against the passenger door to look at the other man. "You never said anything about the quality of the secret. And besides, how do you know that it's _not_ a secret for me? Perhaps I don't like everyone knowing that I tap danced."

The incredulous look on Dean's face eventually fell into resignation as he let out a deep sigh. "You're skating by on a technicality, man. And I'm pretty sure you're full of shit, but go ahead, put it in."

Before Castiel could lean all the way forward, Dean spoke again.

"But," he said emphatically, "I expect a real one next time."

"I am not full of shit," Castiel grumbled, a bit petulantly. Seeing that Dean seemed to be done speaking, Castiel finished leaning in and popped the tape into the stereo.

After a second of silence, the simple, lazy riff of a guitar came filtering through the speakers. Castiel had fully expected to hear the opening to something much older and didn't quite manage to contain his surprise as he felt his eyebrows rise up his forehead.

"'Ball and Biscuit'?" Castiel asked.

"What? It's still rock," Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"No, I just…I wasn't expecting this. It's much newer than the rest of your collection," Castiel replied. Then something occurred to him. "Did you make this mix yourself, or was it given to you?"

Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I made it," he muttered.

Castiel nodded, but didn't say anything else, content to lean back and just listen to the song. He hadn't heard it in years and wondered why he hadn't bothered; he'd always liked the song. As he listened, he contemplated why Dean would possibly pick White Stripes to put on a mix. Was it the sound? Maybe it was the lyrics. But the lyrics seemed to imply a drug dependency, and Dean didn't seem the type for that. Was the mix dedicated to someone, or did it serve a particular personal purpose?

Realizing that he would have to hear the other tracks to draw any sort of conclusion, Castiel blanked out the questions from his mind and just listened. When the song was over, Dean was quick to lean in press the stop button, before the next track could start.

"So? First guess?" Dean asked, looking a bit nervous.

"I believe I'm going to horde my guesses for a few more songs," Castiel replied. At Dean's look of protest, he continued on. "Now hang on. I can't make any sort of guess based on one song; there simply isn't enough data. Wouldn't you agree that that's a logical conclusion?"

Dean's brows knit together, but after a moment he let out a resigned sigh.

"Good," Castiel nodded, satisfied with the small victory. "And thank you for the ride. Again."

"Not a problem," Dean said with a tight grin.

It may not have been a problem to Dean, but Castiel still felt a bit guilty about accepting rides from his mechanic and came to a decision. Squirming a bit, Castiel adjusted his hips until he could get to his wallet and pulled it out.

"Here," he said, digging through it. "I believe I owe you some gas money," he said, holding out a ten-dollar bill.

Dean shook his head and batted Castiel's hand away. "Not taking your money, Cas. You only live one street over, remember? Not like it's out of my way or anything."

Oddly, Dean wasn't making eye contact with him, but that could be for any number of reasons, so Castiel chose not to dwell on it. A muscle in the man's jaw ticked- attractively, Castiel's brain chimed in- indicating that Dean wouldn't be moved on the subject. Castiel placed the money back in his wallet and slowly replaced the wallet back in his pocket, just in case Dean changed his mind. All he got was the tightening of Dean's fingers around the steering wheel in response, so Castiel figured that trying to pay the man would be a lost cause.

"Alright. Well," Castiel began, but was cut off.

"See you in the mornin', Cas," Dean said firmly, finally glancing over.

Castiel nearly scoffed at the near command in Dean's tone, but held it back because apparently, Dean was one of those that didn't know how to not help people. It was actually sort of nice, now that he thought about it, having someone concerned for him, and he couldn't help the soft grin that tugged at his features.

"Have a nice evening, Dean," Castiel responded.

Dean seemed to relax a bit at Castiel's acceptance of his help and offered a small grin of his own.


	3. So It Begins

This was not Dean's morning. He'd woken up only to realize within minutes that he'd forgotten to transfer the clean clothes from the washer to the dryer the night before and had to hope that twenty minutes would be long enough for a shirt and jeans to get dry enough to wear. Then he'd discovered that not only was he out of toothpaste, but coffee too. He munched angrily at a piece of toast, irritated because that was all he had around at the moment; yeah, he was definitely feeling the regret at being too lazy to go to the store the night before.

After a water-only brushing of teeth and swish of mouthwash, he threw on some deodorant as the dryer buzzed, indicating that his time was up. Any hope he had of wearing completely dry clothes was crushed as he pulled out still slightly damp jeans and a t-shirt, but with nothing else clean, put them on anyway. Well, more like cringed his way through shoving his feet through clingy damp denim and ignoring the way his shirt stuck to his shoulders. At least he still had clean, dry socks in his drawer. Once he was put together, he hustled out the door and groaned as he felt the heavy mugginess already permeating the air; if it was already this warm and humid at going on seven a.m., it could only be a sign of the horrendous heat to come that day. He'd never dry out, at this rate.

Deciding it best to allow himself to acclimate to the heat, Dean didn't bother turning on the air conditioning in the car and rolled to Cas' house with the window just halfway down. He pulled up right at seven on the dot and waited patiently, though there didn't appear to be any lights on, which either meant that the man was on his way out, or was still asleep. After five minutes, he sent a text to let Cas know he was there, and after three minutes without a reply, decided to call. Halfway through the third ring, the line picked up, but all Dean heard was a muffled grunt.

"Cas?"

Something sounding vaguely like "Mmrrgh?" in a much deeper and coarser tone than Dean was used to, was the response. Great, the man was totally still in bed.

"Dude. WAKE UP," Dean said emphatically.

Another grunt and a faint snore was all he got back. Dean sighed and tried to figure out what he should do, as more little purr-snores sounded over the line; of course Cas had fallen back asleep with the phone in his hand. Who even answers the phone in their sleep? Hanging up the call, Dean pondered if he should just go on to work, or start banging on the door. He didn't want to screw Cas over by leaving him to sleep through his workday, but neighbors were also milling about, and could easily get the wrong idea if they saw Dean banging on Cas' door like a lunatic. He only took a moment to ponder whether his next idea was crossing some kind of line, before deciding that no, this was something a friend would do. Dean cut the engine and strode purposefully to Cas' front door and sighed in relief when he found a spare key hidden oh-so-ingeniously along the top of the outer doorframe.

It felt all kinds of wrong, but Dean unlocked the door and let himself into Cas' house anyway, turning on the first light switch he came to, to illuminate his path. He was completely unsurprised to see a living room full of neatly ordered bookshelves and quite possibly the most generic taupe-colored couch he'd ever seen. The house smelled faintly like coffee and wood and something warm and comfortable that he couldn't place. Of course Dean was curious to have a look around, but this was definitely not the time, so he made an intuitive guess and went down the hallway off to the side in search of Cas' room. It was on the far end, and the door was wide open. Dean wished desperately that it had been closed so he could just pound on it loudly from the other side and at least give the illusion of not being so intrusive. As it were though, he had no choice but to stand in the doorway and look pointedly at the floor, because there was no sense making this weirder than it had to be.

"Cas!" Dean said sharply, not quite a shout, but much louder than normal.

He heard the sound of movement in the bed, but still didn't look up. When no reply came, Dean pinched the bridge of his nose before saying the man's name again, louder this time. God, he didn't want to have to go over there and shake him awake.

"Fug off, Gabe," Cas slurred sleepily.

Who the hell was Gabe? Clearly not a boyfriend, judging by the obvious irritation in Cas' sleep-addled tone.

"It's Dean, and you're gonna be late for work, Cas," Dean gruffed. "Get your ass out of bed." This was almost as bad as trying to get a teenaged Sam up when they were younger, though Dean figured that Cas wouldn't appreciate Dean jumping on him and tapping his face repeatedly til he got up.

"Dean?" Cas said, consciousness finally looming on the horizon.

"Yeah, it's me…I used your spare key, figured you'd appreciate not missing work. It's almost fifteen after, man," Dean said, finally chancing a glance at the bed. Cas was lying on his side with only a sheet, the material pulled up to nearly the man's armpits, and bare shoulders sticking out above that. Cas rubbed an eye absently for a moment before seeming to process what he'd heard, and then shot up startlingly fast to sit up in his bed.

In one big flurry of movement, the sheet dropped, revealing a very naked hip and before Dean could register anything else, it was being yanked right back up to his collarbones. Dean almost laughed at the scandalized look on Cas' face because really? It's not like Cas had tits to cover up or anything, and the man had taken poll dancing lessons and _performed_ at some point; surely he wasn't that big of a prude. Hell, the guy was clearly sleeping naked! Before his thoughts could wander too far, Dean spun around on his heel and reached to his side for the door handle.

"I'm just gonna go…yeah. Just um…I'll be in the car," Dean fumbled, and pulled the door shut behind him without waiting for a response.

He beat a hasty retreat back to his car and tapped his fingers anxiously against the steering wheel, but it only had a small bit to do with the prospect of tardiness. As he waited for Cas to come out, Dean fretted over what he should say because just as he'd suspected, his sudden appearance at the man's bedroom door had most definitely not been welcome. It was completely understandable; Dean was fairly certain he wouldn't appreciate a near-stranger/only-tentative friend coming in his house while he was most vulnerable, either. He was in a near panic at how badly he might have fucked up by the time Cas came bustling out, and swallowed dryly as he braced himself for the awkward and suspicious looks he was about to receive. Oh god, what if Cas called the police, or gave Bobby hell for Dean's behavior?

Cas flung the passenger door open and slid in, fiddling with the seatbelt before the door was even all the way shut. The man was moving frantically as he was still experiencing the 'Oh shit, I'm late for work' adrenaline buzz, so Dean decided not to say anything and just put the car in gear and took off as soon as he heard Cas' seatbelt click into place. Once they got to the end of Cas' street, the man took a deep breath and scrubbed a hand over his face, grimacing at the stubble he hadn't had time to shave.

"Look, Cas," Dean began, at the same time Cas blurted, _"I'm so sorry, Dean."_

They glanced at each other, and Dean was struck by the look of guilt on Cas' face.

"What? Why are you sorry?" he asked.

"Because now you're going to be late for work, too. You didn't have to wait for me, you know. I would've understood if you'd gone on without me," Cas said earnestly.

"Oh," was all Dean could think to say for a moment, because that was not the reaction he'd been expecting. As he turned the steering wheel, he felt the dig of metal against the inside of his fingers and realized that stupidly, he was still gripping Cas' spare key in his hand. "Here," he said, holding his hand out toward Cas. "Sorry, I didn't mean to take it with me."

When the sensation of the key being taken didn't appear, Dean looked over and saw Cas frowning at his hand.

"Look, I'm really sorry for busting up in your house like that. I know we don't really know each other, but I swear I'm not some creepy-ass…whatever. Just figured you'd get in trouble if you missed work without calling in. And I'm not going to be late; I don't have to be in til eight," Dean said, really wishing that Cas would say something, or at least take the key. He kept his eyes resolutely on the road.

After a moment, he felt Cas push his hand away gently and heard him sigh. "Keep it. It's safer with you than hanging out on my doorframe where anyone could use it, and if I lock myself out, it's not like you live too far away to assist me."

They'd pulled up to a red light, and Dean took the opportunity to turn and gape at his passenger.

"Are you shittin' me? Cas, you barely know me! For all you know, I could be some nutbag that eats paint chips, with a house full of people in cages! You shouldn't trust people," Dean ranted.

Despite looking utterly rumpled and barely awake, Cas managed a chuckle and patted Dean on the thigh. "Did you not just tell me that you're not a…creepy-whatever?" Dean huffed, but Cas continued on before he could argue it. "I'm not a child, Dean, I know not to speak to strangers and look both ways before crossing the road."

Dean frowned at that, desperately wanting to argue that that's exactly what Cas had done since they met, but Cas picked up on it before Dean could say as much. "I know you're a good person, so just take the damned key and let me brood about being an irresponsible dickwad that sleeps through his alarm every couple of months," he finished, already slipping into a brooding demeanor, an embarrassed blush rising to his cheeks at the admission.

Cas obviously had some sort of issue with himself over making this particular mistake, so Dean dropped it and shoved the key into his pants pocket, changing the subject.

"Well, I have some good news. As long as nothing crazy happens, your car should be ready by lunch time, if you can find a way to come pick it up today. I can even text you when it's done, if you want," Dean offered.

Perking up a little bit at that, Cas pulled himself up from his slouch to sit more properly in his seat. "That is good news. But I won't be able to get down there until after work to pick it up," he shrugged. "Just let me know if something happens and it isn't going to be ready today, before I go arranging a ride down here."

"Can do," Dean nodded.

A minute later they pulled up in front of the library, and Cas groaned as he rubbed his face, clearly not wanting to go in.

"Go on, Cas. Don't want you getting in even more trouble," Dean prodded kindly.

With a reluctant sigh, Cas unbuckled his seat belt and got out, but turned to hang his head back inside for a moment. "Seriously, thank you for getting me up, Dean. You've been a tremendous help. I'll talk to you later," he said with a half-smile.

And then he was shutting the door and shuffling to the building with a small slump to his shoulders. Dean didn't envy the chewing-out his…friend was bound to get, but still found himself grinning a little at the shirt tail that hadn't quite managed to make it into the back of Cas' pants, and was hanging out haphazardly and wrinkled. Poor Cas; this was probably going to be a shitty day for him.

***

Caught up in the drama of the morning, Dean had almost forgotten how shitty his own day had begun- almost. In fact, he probably would've forgotten completely, if it weren't for the fact that his stomach was protesting its emptiness by ten o'clock and with nothing he could do about it; he was simply too busy. Two break-downs had been towed in by then, and he'd been abruptly reminded that he'd forgotten to call that asshole Dick Roman and tell him that the part they'd ordered wasn't in yet. By the time the bastard was done doing everything he could to passive-aggressively insult Dean, Bobby, and the garage, Dean was well into a foul mood. And never mind that as he'd suspected would happen, his clothes were still damp against him, never having had a chance to dry as Dean worked up a sweat in the garage.

As lunch rolled around and it had become abundantly clear that Cas' car wouldn't be done, Dean reluctantly pulled his phone out and texted him, apologizing profusely and offering to pick him up after work. A few minutes later, Cas replied back that it was fine and that yes, he would appreciate the ride. That settled, Dean pulled the unappealing bowl of canned off-brand ravioli that he'd found in the break room out of the microwave and choked it down as fast as he could so he wouldn't really have to taste it.

His day didn't improve at all after that, only more of the same. He kept a hawkish eye on the clock, trying his best to will the time to move faster so he could just get the hell out of there and get home and forget this bullshit day. The moment the minute hand clicked over to half past five, Dean had his tools cleaned and put away, arms scrubbed to the elbow, keys in hand, and card being punched in the time clock. With only a perfunctory wave at Bobby on the way out, Dean was stomping to his car and pulling out his phone. He sent Cas a quick 'on my way' text and practically threw himself into his car. It was apparent within seconds that he was stinking up the cab and he rolled the windows down, wishing he could just use the air conditioning; if he were alone, he'd probably be fine with basking in his own manly musk, but Cas didn't deserve to be assaulted with that.

Cas was waiting for him when Dean pulled up in front of the library, looking like his day had been about as passable as Dean's, a deep frown settled on his face. It was confusing how attractive the man still managed to look, even with being rumpled and pissy. The moment Cas got in the car, he apologized, but before Dean could ask why, a disgustingly sweet-sour scent filled the car that Dean was shocked to find overpowered his own smell.

"Dude, what _is_ that?" Dean asked, barely refraining from gagging. He'd normally try to be a little more tactful, but the stink caught him off-guard.

"You're not so fresh yourself, Dean," Cas scowled. "A child from a field trip that came in saw fit to use me as a vomit receptacle," he shuddered.

Dean now noticed that the button-up Cas had been wearing that morning was balled up in his lap, leaving him in a plain white undershirt that looked about two sizes too small on Cas' already lithe frame. And wow, even the form-fitting waistcoat from the other day hadn't done justice to what Cas was hiding underneath.

"It happens when you sweat your balls off all day in a garage in the summer," Dean grumbled, feeling slightly less self-conscious.

Cas just nodded and ran a hand through his hair, looking at the shirt in his hands as if he'd like to smite it with his eyes alone. Dean was glad he wasn't on the receiving end of that look because he was pretty sure it could make lesser men shit their pants. He put the car in gear and pulled out, somewhat glad that Cas didn't seem in the mood for conversation much more than himself. Once they'd made it out of town and onto a less-populated stretch, Cas bent over, fiddling with something in the footwell. Dean internally groaned, not in the mood for their little game just yet, but then Cas straightened back up and hurled something out of the passenger-side window.

Distracted, Dean snapped his head over, and was surprised to see Cas getting ready throw a shoe out the window- apparently, the second shoe. Quickly after, the shirt was tossed as well, and Cas leaned back in the seat with an irritated exhalation.

"Did you just throw your shoes out the freakin' window?" Dean asked, voice climbing high in his surprise, even though he knew the answer.

"And my shirt," Cas said dryly. Then he picked at the collar of his undershirt, bringing it up to get a sniff, and looking relieved that it apparently didn't have an offensive smell.

"Dude, why didn't you just wait and throw them away? Or wash everything?"

Cas tilted his head and looked at Dean, as if Dean were the one doing something strange.

"It's nearly impossible to get shoes clean again once they've had waste of any sort on them, and they were smelling up the car, as was the shirt," Cas said slowly.

Glancing between the serious look on Cas' face and the road, Dean felt a nearly delirious laugh bubble up and spill out. Cas looked at him as if he'd grown an extra head.

"Sorry, just…I thought you'd be the type to just take that shit to the dry cleaner and let them deal with it. Didn't figure you for being impulsive and littering country roads," Dean shrugged.

Cas was quiet, and when Dean glanced over, the man was blinking owlishly as he stared through the windshield.

"You're right," Cas said, looking a bit confused. "That's exactly what I'd normally do. I don't know why…that's something…" he trailed off, then shook his head, done attempting to elaborate on that train of thought.

While Dean's grumpiness was due to a day full of generally shitty circumstances, Cas seemed to be suffering from a shitty week, and Dean felt suddenly really bad for the guy. They were approaching the turn for the street that would take them into their neighborhood, when an idea struck Dean.

"Hey Cas?" Dean asked, trying to infuse some lightness in his tone.

"Mmmm?"

"You like Chinese food?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Well," Dean drawled, "you look like you could use some carbs and fried stuff, and I'm starving. I was gonna order some anyway, so why don't we eat together at my place?"

They were getting closer to Cas' street, and at the last second before Dean would need to slow down to turn, Cas spoke up.

"That actually sounds really good. And I still don't know where you live, so we may as well," he shrugged.

Dean couldn't help but grin and nodded to himself. It was less than a minute before they pulled up to Dean's house, one of the few on the street that included a garage, and only because Dean's father had added it on when Dean and his brother were still children. Once parked, he flung the door open without bothering to roll up the window. Cas followed suit and peered around curiously as he waited on Dean to unlock the door that led to the laundry room, which was just off of the kitchen.

Once they'd set foot in the kitchen, Dean couldn't help but sigh and sag with relief as the air conditioning sent a pleasant shiver over his skin, cooling him for the first time in almost eleven hours.

"I'm gonna to hop in the shower, if you want to order up the food," he said, grabbing a menu from the island and holding it out. "Just tell them that Dean wants his usual and then add on whatever you're wanting. They'll know what to do."

Cas looked at him, amusement clear on his features.

"Don’t look at me like that. I'm too fucking hot to think about going near a stove, so yeah…I don't really cook in the summer," Dean said defensively.

The grin widened, and Cas held his hands up in a placating gesture. "Not judging that. You just made it sound like I'm calling the mafia with that 'they'll know what to do' bit, is all."

And okay, Dean could see that, and gave a half-grin. "I never call before seven, unless I need it delivered, and they know how I like my stuff." He still felt kind of ridiculous, even after his explanation, and rolled his eyes. "Anyway, help yourself to whatever you find, and feel free to kick your feet up," he said with a nod toward the living room.

A look of relief settled on Cas' face at the mention of sitting down, and Dean patted Cas on the shoulder and grinned as he passed by on his way to the bedroom. He didn't linger in the shower, scrubbing quickly so he could take an extra minute to shave and really dig at the grease that seemed to always linger under his fingernails. Not that he was trying to impress Cas necessarily, but he certainly didn't want to gross the man out by looking like he couldn't manage to clean himself properly. And after the horrifying amalgam of stench they'd created in the car, Dean had felt even more disgusting than usual.

He didn't bother, however, trying to be more presentable than necessary in his own home and shrugged to himself as he pulled on a pair of comfortable athletic shorts and his thinnest, softest t-shirt. Whatever logo it used to have was long faded, and the stitching was coming loose at the shoulder on one of the sleeves, but he couldn't be fucked to care. When he walked into the living room, Cas was channel surfing with a bored look on his face, and covered up with the blanket from the back of the couch. Dean balked at the thought of being covered up by anything, but Cas worked indoors all day and maybe he was cold natured, Dean reasoned. And to be fair, Dean did tend to keep the house fairly cold in the summer.

Walking over, Dean flopped down on the other side of couch and groaned his relief at having the soft cushions supporting his body. As was habit, he pulled the foot rest lever and sighed as he was now able to stretch his legs out and just rest for a minute.

"Want a hoodie or something instead? Normally I'd offer to turn the temp up, but I just can't tonight…thought I was gonna die of a goddamned heat stroke these last two days."

"Actually, that would be wonderful, if you don't mind. You don't have to get up, if you just want to tell me where to look," Cas offered.

Dean smiled gratefully. "Closet by the front door. The black one would probably fit you best, but the blue one is the softest."

Cas nodded and got up to go in search of a hoodie, while Dean mused at how easily they seemed to just kind of fall in together today, despite the rocky start and Dean's apparently needless anxiety over crossing Cas' boundaries. He also noted that there had been a distinct lack of innuendo today, which only fed Dean's theory that Cas was a sneak, and had known exactly what he was saying in their previous interactions and just wasn't in the mood today. So what…had that been Cas flirting in his own odd way? The lack on this particular day wasn't disappointing though, because they both seemed more comfortable around each other, which was worth more than some flirtations. When Cas reappeared with the royal blue hoodie swallowing him up and looking ridiculous paired with the navy dress slacks and what Dean now noticed were even more ridiculous red, pink, and purple striped socks, Dean couldn't help but grin.

"I knew you'd grab the blue," Dean mused, smirking.

Cas seemed content to keep his fingers curled inside the cuffs of the hoodie and shrugged as he sat back down on the couch. "I'd be a fool not to consider my comfort. You're comfortable, so why shouldn't I be?"

"No, you're right, Cas. We're both two hard-workin' dudes, and we deserve to be comfortable after a long day," Dean nodded. "Glad you don't seem to mind me slummin' it."

Before Cas could respond to that, the doorbell rang, and Dean groaned at the prospect of getting up to answer it. It might be lazy as fuck, but he was tired and sore, dammit. He pulled out the twenty he'd shoved in his pocket in his room for his own portion, and handed it to Cas, nodding toward the door. "You get the food, and I'll get the plates and stuff."

When Dean returned to the living room, Cas was still standing in the doorway, chatting with the delivery boy, who spied Dean passing through over Cas' shoulder and called out.

"Dean! I didn't know that you knew Angel," the boy grinned, looking between the two men. "This was the easiest order I've filled all day."

Dean quirked an eyebrow and grinned at Cas, who looked somewhat embarrassed. "Well, me and _Angel_ , only met a few days ago. So you order from there a lot, huh?" Dean asked Cas.

"Oh, Angel's fussier than you are," the delivery boy piped in teasingly.

"Is that so?" Dean drawled, enjoying the way Cas' lips were drawing into a thin line.

The boy nodded, enjoying the ribbing as much as Dean and winking. "Enjoy, guys," he said to them both, then turned and headed back to his car.

Cas rolled his eyes and headed back to the couch, leaving Dean to follow him, still smirking at the exchange.

"Angel?" Dean prompted, once they were seated.

Cas nodded as he started pulling cartons out of the bag.

"You know the one lady that always answers the phone and doesn't speak much English…well, she couldn't seem to understand my name when I tried to give it to her, so I started placing my order under Angel. That was a word she understood, and I'm named after one, so it made sense," Cas explained absently.

"Why didn't you just put it under Cas?" Dean asked.

"It never occurred to me. No one's ever called me that in over ten years, but you. And I wasn't about to use Cassie...that's what my brother Gabriel calls me and I despise it."

Dean grinned to himself as he recollected Cas' half-conscious attempt at telling him to fuck off that morning, assuming that Dean was Gabriel. Cas had only cursed sparingly around him, and it was kind of amusing, hearing him drop an F-bomb so easily in his sleep; apparently, Cas' generally polite conversational demeanor was not his natural state. Interesting.

The conversation flowed easily into talking about their families; Dean beaming with pride at his brother Sam's success as a lawyer out in California, and Cas telling about his older sister Anna's MMA studio, and his older brother Gabriel's job, co-designing the props and tools for a particularly famous, but unnamed illusionist.

"So you're the nerd in the family, huh?" Dean teased.

"If liking to read makes me one, then I suppose so. Though by the general standard, I would say that working with a magician and cracking corny jokes would make Gabriel more the nerd than myself. When it comes down to it though, I'm really not as nerdy as you'd think."

Dean didn't miss the way Cas looked as if he hadn't meant to say that last part and his interest was piqued.

"So what, are you a secret badass, working the Clark Kent angle or something?" Dean teased even more.

The barest flicker of what appeared to be panic flashed in Cas' eyes, but was gone before Dean could properly name it as such. Oh, this just got even better; Dean was certain now that Cas had stuff to hide, and even if it might not be particularly interesting objectively, Dean's curiosity was chomping at the bit.

"Yes, Dean. I have an alter ego that prowls the streets at night. I'm in a biker gang of elite assassins. I am a ninja," Cas said flatly.

"Smartass," Dean grinned.

Cas smirked, pulling out his third eggroll and squeezing duck sauce onto it from his packet. Dean couldn't help but marvel at how much the man was able to put away, considering his lean build.

"If anything, I suspect that between the two of us, you're the nerd, though you hide it fairly well," Cas said nonchalantly.

"Say what?" Dean spluttered.

"You heard me. I bet you know at least one phrase in at least two different fictional languages. It could be Klingon, or Elvish, or whatever. I'd also venture to guess that you've been Han Solo for Halloween before, and have a friend that you pretend not to be jealous of when they go to Comic Con," Cas said smugly. "I wouldn't be surprised if you're fluent in movie quotes."

Dean could feel his face heating up because damn, Cas had nailed more on the head than Dean cared to think about. Cas just chuckled and tucked back into his spread, a genuine smile spreading across his face that made everything about the man look absolutely luminous. After swallowing his bite, Cas looked back at him, the smile still present but a bit tempered now.

"It's okay Dean, your secret's safe with me," he said sincerely. "It's kind of endearing, actually."

No one but his friend Charlie had ever called him endearing, and he'd given her hell over that because Dean was not…endearing, fuckyouverymuch. But Cas just looked so genuine, and if thinking of Dean in such a way made the man smile after such a shitty few days, Dean figured he could swallow his pride for a minute and let it pass.

"Yeah, well, whatever. So what about your secrets, huh?" Dean asked pointedly. "Don’t forget that we had a deal, and we're going to go through with that when I take you home."

Cas sighed and nodded, looking for all the world like a student reminded at the last minute that he had a paper due the next morning. Dean snorted but didn't comment any further, content to let the two of them finish their meal in peace, with only the odd snippet of comfortable small talk punctuating the silence. The disjointed awkwardness that they'd experienced before seemed to be calming down, and Dean found himself enjoying Cas' company. Dude was still kind of an oddball and still asked somewhat invasive questions, but now that Dean was getting used to him and how he worked, it was much easier to talk to him. And if Dean kind of hoped that they could keep hanging out once Cas' car was fixed, well that was his own business.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for hanging in there, y'all. Life has been tumultuous, and I admittedly lost my inspiration for a while there, but this story is definitely not dropped. Many thanks to those who have been kind enough to drop me little lines of encouragement when I needed it most <3


	4. Castiel, Cas, Angel

Castiel trudged through his front door, left toes moving to right heel as if to kick off shoes that he then remembered he wasn't wearing. Instead of dwelling on the unusually impulsive thing he'd done though, he kept moving. Making his way to his bedroom to strip out of his remaining clothes, Castiel considered for the umpteenth time how nice it would be to put carpet down; the hardwood may have added value to his home, but it certainly wasn't as inviting. Thoughtlessly, he flipped the light switch to the living room as he passed through but didn't bother looking around. God, he felt bloated. Five minutes later he re-emerged in a ratty t-shirt and a pair of soccer shorts that he never did remember acquiring- he’d never played soccer or known anyone that did- though it seemed to have been at least ten years ago, if not longer, since the shorts appeared.

Plopping down on the couch, he leaned his head back and rubbed his eyes for a good thirty seconds, the ungodly amount of food in his stomach underlining his exhaustion as it settled in his stomach.

“So, is that a boy or a girl?”

Castiel practically leapt over the couch at the unexpected voice. “Fucking fuck!” he ~~shrieked~~ shouted. Not five feet away, Gabriel was sitting in the armchair looking completely relaxed and ridiculously pleased with himself.

“Goddammit, Gabriel! What are you doing in my house? And how long have you been sitting there?” Castiel asked breathlessly, hand to his chest. In all his 32 years, no one but Gabriel had ever been able to sneak up on Castiel, and Gabriel took advantage of it at every possible turn.

Gabriel cackled and hopped gracefully to his feet. “What? I can’t come visit my little bro when I have a break from work? And I’ve been sitting here since about fifteen minutes before you walked in.” He then walked over and sat down on the other end of the couch from Castiel. “But anyway, you’re clearly expecting a food baby, so I’m guessing it’s been a rough day?” he said, leaning over and poking uncomfortably hard at Castiel’s stomach.

Castiel groaned at the pressure and swatted Gabriel’s hand away. He didn't even bother questioning why Gabriel had been sitting in the dark. “I slept through my alarm and was late to work. Then I had to deal with two different classes on field trips, one kid puked all over the Junie B. Jones section, then me, and another kept running around taking books out of the other kids’ hands and shouting ‘Swiper no swiping!’. So yeah, rough day,” Castiel grumped.

“That doesn’t even make sense…the swipee is supposed to say that, not the Swiper,” Gabriel frowned.

Castiel huffed and rubbed a hand over his belly. Gabriel’s hearing was selective, so it was no surprise that that was what had gotten his attention.

“Seriously though, why are you here? I thought you weren't getting a break until next week,” Castiel asked.

Gabriel shrugged and pulled out a bag of skittles from god knows where. “You always have the good ice cream bars and I was out. Plus, your internet’s faster.”

The explanation was bullshit, considering that Gabriel made plenty of money to pay for his own frivolities, and furthermore, had his own apartment out in Vegas that he normally went to when he wasn’t working. Castiel sat up a little in his seat and took a better look at his brother. Now that he was really looking, he could see the weariness on Gabriel’s face and the slump of his shoulders. Plus, Castiel had no doubt that Gabriel had gotten into his Magnum bars and now he was eating Skittles; Gabriel didn’t tend to eat both chocolate and fruity candy during the same day unless something was wrong.

“Kali blew you off again,” Castiel stated, rather than asked. The unhappy twist of Gabriel’s mouth was confirmation enough. “I’m sorry, Gabriel. Just…give her a few days. You know how she gets.”

Gabriel and Kali had been divorced for ten years, but they’d never managed to fully break it off, dropping into each other’s lives for just long enough to fuck and fight and then go back to what they’d each been doing before. It seemed to be an endless cycle, and Castiel had long ago given up on trying to convince Gabriel that it was a pointless pursuit.

“Yeah, I know,” Gabriel said around a disgusting mouthful of candy and digging between his legs for a dropped piece. He grinned when he found it and pulled it from what appeared to be right beneath his groin, popping it in his mouth. “Don’t look at me like that Cassie. Crotch candy is still good when it has a shell on it.”

Castiel grimaced but refrained from commenting that that was probably one of many reasons that Kali couldn’t put up with Gabriel for extended amounts of time.

“Well, the guest room is yours if you need it,” Castiel offered. “But not the car. You’ll have to find your own way around, once I get it back from the shop.”

“Why are you so attached to that car, anyway? It’s…” Gabriel made a face of distaste and gestured vaguely, trying to find a word for it and failing. “It makes me as well as most people groan, and not in the good way.”

“It’s comfortable and safe and imposing on the road. People tend to get out of my way,” Castiel grumbled.

Gabriel scoffed. “Uh yeah, because they assume that there’s either a nearly-blind elderly woman or a pimp with a gun behind the wheel of that boat!”

“And I couldn't care less, as long as it gets me where I need to go. In fact, there’s something satisfying about seeing the confusion on people’s faces when they pull up next to me at a red light,” Castiel mused.

"And that's what makes you beautiful, Cassie," Gabriel smirked. "Never lost your touch for messing with people."

Castiel gave him a dry look, neither confirming nor denying his understanding of Gabriel's reference. For the record, he did get it, but would rather a stranger's foot touch his face than admit to it. He shuddered at the mental imagery, but stubbornly maintained his position.

"Anyway, I'm going to take a take a shower and then I'm going to bed. Do whatever you want, but don't watch porn on my computer or order anything on the cable," Castiel said tiredly.

Gabriel actually pouted, as if he shouldn't have expected Castiel to want his computer free of viruses and cable bill to stay the same. "You're no fun anymore. You used to be fun, Cassie. What happened to 'I'm becoming a librarian, not selling my soul'?" he asked, affecting an imitation of Cas' deeper voice. "You're gonna become an old maid with a houseful of cats."

"I'm still fun," Castiel frowned.

Gabriel scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Oh really? So pray tell, what did you do last weekend, hmm?"

Castiel shifted uncomfortably, because there was no way he was going to admit that he spent his last weekend cleaning out his car, weeding his flower beds, and playing Words with Friends while looking at the 'Missed Connections' on craigslist for shits and giggles.

"I'm an adult and have a real job, and a house to take care of, Gabriel. I can't go boozing it up and partying every weekend," Castiel deflected.

Gabriel nodded as if he'd expected that answer. "And that's all good and well, nothing wrong with building a life. But Cassie…you have a taupe couch and wear sweater vests and don't even curse anymore, unless you're in a foul mood or startled. When's the last time you even had another guy besides me in your house?"

"This morning. And it's clay, not taupe. And my job necessitates a certain dress code," Castiel argued.

"Not the point, so stop evading. Also, I'm calling bullshit on the guest you said you had this morning," Gabriel said, eyes narrowed and arms folded across his chest.

Castiel debated just walking away and going to bed, but he knew that his brother would follow him and likely even get in Castiel's bed and refuse to let him sleep until he was satisfied with his answers. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Castiel decided to be honest and just get it all over with because it was well past time to be done with this day.

"Fine. Long story short, I've kind of made friends with the mechanic working on my car, and he's been giving me a ride to and from work; he lives one street over, so it's convenient. The only reason I made it to work today was because he came in and got me up when he realized I was still asleep," Castiel admitted begrudgingly.

Gabriel's facial muscles and posture might have suggested boredom, but his eyes were glinting with interest. _Shit, I'm never going to get to bed,_ Castiel whined inside his own head.

"Friend, huh? Is he one of those old beardy mechanics, or one of those rare hot ones that seems to move in slow-mo while their skin glistens in the sun?" Gabriel smirked.

"He's disgustingly attractive, and very kind, and very much the red-blooded American type," Castiel said, not bothering to mask the touch of disappointment in his voice. If anyone would understand his personal predicament, it would be Gabriel, so Castiel figured he may as well take advantage of having his brother around, even if the man did drive him nuts.

"Soooo…I'm guessing you've been keeping up the stuffy librarian façade with him then. You know that's going to blow up in your face, right?" Gabriel asked.

"Gabe," Castiel began. But Gabriel wasn't having it, his eyes turning sharp in a rare turn of brotherly concern and irritation.

"Don't you 'Gabe' me, you little shit. You know I've always supported your weird librarian thing, and I'm glad you've figured out through some _miracle_ how to be a responsible adult, but this," Gabriel said, waving arm around at the living room, "isn't you, Cassie. I refuse to believe that you're happy with what you've got going on here. Borderline satisfied maybe, but not happy. It's one thing to have a job you love, but it's a whole other to let it take over your personal life."

Castiel sat back down on the couch, knowing that there was probably plenty more where that came from and figured he may as well get comfortable. Gabriel looked pleased and seemed to calm down a bit at Castiel's gesture of acceptance. Gearing up for the next round of discussion, he threw his now empty Skittles bag uncaringly over his shoulder with a look that dared Castiel to complain about the single piece of trash in the otherwise pristine room. When Castiel pursed his lips and said nothing, Gabriel gave a satisfied nod before continuing on.

"So. What this hot mechanic's name? Does he swing your way?"

"His name is Dean, and I'm pretty sure he does. Or at least, I've caught him checking me out a few times, and he's shaping out to be a bit of a flirt. Could be closeted, though," Castiel mumbled.

"Well even so, you still deserve a friend that knows how you really are, Cassie. It's twenty-fucking-fourteen, bro…I seriously doubt there's much about you that could shock him that much. I mean, it's not like you're a serial killer or moonlighting as a hooker," Gabriel shrugged.

"Okay look, he and I may have started this little game," Castiel began.

Gabriel cocked an interested eyebrow and leaned forward a bit. "Wait a minute. I sense a backstory here. Start at the beginning."

Castiel relayed most everything that had happened between he and Dean since the moment the Impala pulled up behind his broken-down car, including the rules of the mixed tape game. He even shared the fact that he'd accidentally slipped back into old-Castiel mode in front of Dean, by being so imprudent as to throw clothes out a window, and how he'd nearly given away a big clue of himself on two different occasions that day; first, when the bed sheet fell that morning, and then as he'd been sitting there freezing on Dean's couch, certain his nipples were going to cut a hole in his shirt at any moment.

Gabriel had adopted a look of constant amusement as Castiel had told the story, but was cackling by the end, and had to wipe a tear from his eye as he spoke.

"I love you bro, but God, have you got to calm your tits," Gabriel said, with an obnoxious eyebrow waggle, and a glance down at Castiel's chest. "So what if he finds out you have your nipples pierced? It's not like it's some exotic, weird thing these days, and definitely not as surprising as the tattoo or the Prince Albert." Gabriel chuckled some more, shaking his head. "I can't believe your 'secret' was nearly outed by air conditioning at the guy's house. That's priceless."

Castiel crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his brother. "It's not that I think there's anything odd about anyone being pierced, Gabriel. It's the fact that people don't always react well to the surprise of finding out that my typical appearance on the outside doesn't match what's underneath. They think I'm supposed to be reserved and boring and most end up seeming to feel deceived somehow. But I can't let that little part of myself go, either, and take the piercings out."

The sharp look returned to Gabriel's eyes as he sobered and he leaned back, crossing his arms over his own chest.

"This is the biggest bunch of bullshit ever. You're a grown man, and you're seriously that worried about what people think of you? Jesus, Cassie. Has it really never occurred to you that anyone that would judge you on that isn't worth having around? This wouldn't even be an issue if you'd just stuck with the fucking business major and taken Dad's offer instead of acting like a brat and rebelling as a goddamned librarian of all things! You'd be running your bookstore and meeting people as weird as you, and not feeling a need to hide away."

Castiel's frown turned from mildly offended to thunderous. "You know, you sound just like him," he said petulantly. He knew it was fighting dirty to compare Gabriel to their father, but Castiel was over being preached at in his own house.

"Well fuck you too," Gabriel said sweetly, a sarcastic smile on his face.

There was a long pause where the two men eyed each other, until Castiel gave in. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"No, you shouldn't have. Dad didn't give a shit about any of us being happy, but I do. Anna's happy with her studio, I'm living it up helping someone make money off of messing with people, and what are you doing, Castiel? Just think about it, okay? There's more than enough money left in the trust for you to do what you really want. Dad's gone…there's nothing to rebel against anymore," Gabriel added quietly.

It had been many years since Castiel had dreamed of owning his bookstore, to the point that he truly hadn't even considered it a possibility anymore, even after their father died. It had become one of those facts about himself that he'd look back on, like most people would the fact of what they'd wanted to be when they were children. Doctor, teacher, astronaut, bookstore owner.

Life has been stable, predictable, even. Not that that's something he craves necessarily, but it's become the status quo now, and to think of doing something different anymore is mildly terrifying. He's put a lot of effort into making sure he isn't late everywhere and paying his bills on time (which for him, have been achievements), and the thought of upsetting that rigid control he's practiced makes him fear a relapse of not having his shit together. Still though, he can't help but feel a little flicker of warmth at the thought of how much he still loved the idea of being his own boss and running his own life by his own rules.

"I'll think about it," Castiel eventually offered.

Gabriel let out a deep breath and a small, but genuine smile curved at his lips. "That's all I'm asking. Back to hot mechanic man, now. What song was it tonight, and what'd you tell him?"

Relieved at the change of subject, Castiel relaxed a bit into his seat.

"It was bizarre, considering the rest of his collection. I could understand White Stripes, but tonight it was Fiona Apple. 'Sleep to Dream'," Castiel said, brow pinching in remembrance of hearing that song filtering through the speakers of the Impala. "I've seen his tapes, Gabe…it's all classic rock and hair bands, and I can't imagine what he'd be doing with Fiona Apple. I wouldn't question it, if it weren't for the fact that he told me he'd made the tape himself."

Gabriel hummed and steepled his fingers thoughtfully. "You know, it's starting to sound like you're not the only one with some hidden quirks. Sounds like Dean-o also has some interesting things going on beneath the butch exterior."

"Oh, and you should've seen his face when I accused him of being a closet nerd," Castiel chuckled. "He wasn't angry about it. He just looked shocked, so you might be onto something."

"See, these are things in your favor," Gabriel said hopefully. "Now, what was the big secret?"

"Not telling. They're supposed to be secrets, not just trivia," Castiel smirked.

"Oh come on! You said you told him about the pole dancing and the tap dancing, and Dumbo! None of those are secrets, so I doubt you told him anything I don't know," Gabriel whined.

"Technically, those are secrets, because they're information about myself that most people, and especially my coworkers, don't know and likely never will."

Gabriel gave him an unimpressed look. "You're a cheat, Castiel."

"I am not."

The unimpressed look didn't budge, and Castiel sighed because his brother was right and now that he could see the end of this conversation in sight, and the prospect of going to bed on the horizon, he was ready to just be done.

"Fine. I told him about getting arrested," Castiel murmured.

Gabriel practically spluttered in his surprise. "You're trying to keep a low profile, and _that's_ the secret you went with? Oh my god! Which one did you tell him about?"

"Indecent exposure," Castiel said, rubbing his forehead.

"Which one?"

"The skinny-dipping one," Castiel relented. "I told him how it was expunged, so I'm just hoping he leaves it all alone and doesn't go digging around and find the others."

Gabriel snorted and shook his head. "You should've gone with the mooning and trespassing one. Much better story. "

"If I'm going to let Dean get to know me, I think it would be prudent to ease him into it. And besides, you remember what I looked like back then, with the mooning one. It wouldn't take much for him to find the records and one look at the mug shot would have him giving me all kinds of looks."

"Well, you already kind of screwed the pooch on that one by telling him you've been arrested to begin with. If he's curious at all, he could look it up easily," Gabriel said. "And any looks given would probably be all the right looks. Am I the only one here that remembers the parade of people lined up to try and suck your dick back then?"

Castiel shot him a look of disgust because those were words he never wanted to hear his brother say to him. "No, I remember. But I can't imagine that Dean would've been part of that parade; he doesn't exactly strike me as the type to appreciate guyliner and a face full of metal."

"Bro, let me explain you a thing. In my experience, it seems to be the good boys and girls that appreciate all that the most, because it's different from them and seems mysterious. But look, you've still got it, even if you do look like some Dad with a minivan these days. You just gotta stop dressing like that outside of work. You know, baby steps; a t-shirt here, some tight jeans there."

"But it's practical. I spend most of my time at work, and I don't see the point in buying extra clothes that I'd rarely wear," Castiel said, rolling his eyes. "And furthermore, can you stop talking about my appeal or whatever? It's creepy."

Gabriel affected a look of mock hurt, hand splaying dramatically over his heart. "I'm only trying to help you out, little bro. Boost the self-esteem a little." At Castiel's own unimpressed look, Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Point is, I've seen you in action, and you know damn well that when you put in the effort, people notice you. And let me ask you this: not even for a date, but let's just say that Dean-o invites you out for a drink one night. Would you have anything even remotely wearable to say, a bar?"

"Enough. I know how to dress, I just don't see the point these days, and I'm sure as shit not taking fashion tips from a man that wore a fake mustache so he could go cougar-hunting," Castiel said. "And I'm going to bed now," he grumbled, standing up.

"Hey now, don't you bring the pornstache into this, it did its job beautifully. And I'm not the one that played up the twinkiness to get free drinks off of dirty old rich guys and then rolled out before they realized they'd been had."

Castiel walked off toward his bedroom, flipping Gabriel off in the process. "Goodnight, Gabriel," he threw over his shoulder.

 

***

 

Scowling at the ceiling over his bed, Castiel huffed in irritation at his current state of sleeplessness. Gabriel had had a point; several, in fact, and Castiel kind of hated it when his brother was right. It was true that Castiel knew that he wasn't doing himself any favors by keeping up the 'what, little old me?' façade, but truthfully, he was scared. It had been over a year since he'd tried to have more than a casual friendship with anyone, mostly out of the reasoning that he hadn't met anyone all that interesting and worth letting his guard down for.

Dean was very interesting, though. It didn't seem to matter that Castiel and Dean hadn't actually spent all that much time together; Castiel felt a sort of connection with the man that he couldn't quite put his finger on. There was obviously some chemistry there, but that wasn't all. It just felt right being around Dean, and Castiel wanted to get to know the man better, even if his own attraction never had the opportunity to go any further.

On the note of opportunity and attraction, Castiel was brought back to the reminder of what Gabriel had said about the arrest records, and his chest squeezed at the thought of the very real possibility that Dean might poke around and find the mug shots. He was fairly sure that Dean wasn't the type to judge someone for having been to jail, especially for the kinds of things Castiel had been booked for, but still. It was the mug shots. One look at them, and the man was sure to have a few questions that Castiel wasn't sure he could evade, if Dean even wanted to ask them at that point. And then there was also the possibility that a particular video was still floating around out there, though it would probably be harder to find, because that was back when Castiel was using a stage name. At least there was that.

As Castiel thought about those days, when the band was still together and he still had the attitude of invincibility that only the very young hold so fiercely, he couldn't help but smile a little. He'd done and said many foolish things, but he still couldn't bring himself to regret much of it, even the arrests; it had been a good time in his life, and he hadn't wasted a single second of his youth. Not that he was old now, of course, but it didn't escape him that perhaps he was going to end up that way if he didn't do something.

Castiel rolled to his side and glanced at the clock, sighing when he saw that he only stood to get four and a half hours of sleep if he fell asleep right then. He also knew himself well enough to know that if he didn't come to some sort of decision about what to do, the sleep wouldn't come at all. Irritated already for the tiredness he'd be sure to feel all day, he made a hasty mental pro and con list because really, he was sick of thinking about it all, anyway. After ten minutes of internal debate and careful parsing of which thoughts gave him the most and least anxiety, Castiel realized that regardless of his decision, it was going to be nerve-wracking. As much as he liked Dean, this wasn't nearly as much about him, as it was about Castiel having one of those little moments where you know your life is about to change. Being brave and opening up to Dean would mostly just be the gateway to Castiel's next step toward personal development.

And there it was. The thing it all really came down to: was he really ready to start living his life for himself again? Was he truly prepared to tear down the carefully constructed life he'd made and rebuild? Was it really worth it?

But then again, what did he have to lose? He didn't have a partner or children, no close friends that were unaware of his tendencies, and had a fairly sizable savings account; it's amazing how much you can save when you have no one to spend your money on or with, even after paying the bills. So even if he did decide at some point to quit the library and open his store, he'd have plenty to fall back on if needed. All he truly stood to lose at the moment was a potential friendship, not even a best friendship or family member. It would hurt if Dean didn't want to be his friend anymore, but in the grand scheme of things, it was nothing he hadn't been through before and couldn't come back from. Laying it out in such black and white terms actually made the answer almost appallingly obvious.

Castiel James Milton, sometimes known as Cas, and at one time known as Angel, had absolutely no rational excuse to keep on the way he had been for the last several years. Surprisingly, the realization sent an excited little thrill down his spine, the likes of which Castiel hadn't felt in many years. It was like a low electric current humming under his skin, as the possibility of feeling that brand of freedom again struck him, and he couldn't help but smile. He was even more surprised to feel a wave of impulsivity that had long lain dormant wash over him, and fought the urge to get up and start doing…something, he didn't know what, but something right the fuck now.

No, that would be a bad idea, pulling an all-nighter and trying to make it through his whole shift the next day. Once upon a time he could've done that, but your body just doesn't handle that sort of mistreatment at 32 like it does at 22. And besides, if he was going to do this, he was going to handle it differently this time with the wisdom and patience his age had granted him. For now, he needed to just take a few calming breaths and clear his mind of the good _and_ bad he'd been reflecting upon, and let himself get what little sleep he could. Tomorrow would be a new day, and as long as he still felt this sense of resolve come sunup, it would hopefully be the beginning of a new point in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed learning a little bit more about Cas'...colorful past. We'll get to Dean soon, I promise ;)


	5. We All Need Somebody to Lean On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating has been upped because I smutted. Whoops. 
> 
> Also, I suspect I'll be the subject of any number of head shakes, disappointed sighs, and glares through the screen when the chapter title makes sense to you. I make terrible puns and couldn't resist. I would say I'm sorry, but I'm totally not :3

Dean didn't realize he'd been frowning so deeply until the sound of the phone at the desk startled him from the staring contest he'd been having with Cas' tail lights as they pulled away from the garage. Bobby picked the call up in his office before Dean could reach for the phone, and Dean's frown returned as he pondered the events of the day.

Cas had been acting kind of weird that morning. He was clearly sleep-deprived, but instead of just slumping down in the seat like he normally would, he was sitting stiff-backed and fidgeting restlessly, mind occupied. When Dean had tossed out a casual 'You alright?' and patted him on the knee, Cas had startled and given him a strange half-pained looking smile and mumbled that he was just tired. When they'd gotten to the library, Cas' eyes had tracked over his face like he was trying to understand something, and the nervous look left Dean unsettled. He'd plastered on a smile though, and even more unsettling, Cas' expression went unreadable at that before he said a soft 'later, Dean' and exited the car.

A little bit before lunch, Dean had finished working on Cas' car and texted to let him know. And here Dean was, a couple hours before the end of his shift, watching Cas pull away after a somewhat awkward and rather professional exchange. The only even slightly personal part of it was when Cas had thanked him with all earnestness in those deep blue eyes, for having helped him the last few days. Cas wasn't being cold or closed off necessarily; it was more like…hesitance. _Weird,_ Dean thought for the umpteenth time that day.

The rest of Dean's shift went by in a distracted haze as he tried to figure out what was going on. He was pretty sure he hadn't done anything that would cause Cas' strange behavior; they'd just talked after dinner like normal people about anything and everything, then Dean drove him home and they listened to the tape. Cas had quirked a curious brow at him for the song, but didn't comment or offer a guess about the tape. He'd told Dean about getting arrested for skinny dipping, which had surprised a laugh out of Dean, but Cas hadn't seem offended. Cas had even laughed a little himself at the memory, until the motion of it was too strenuous on his overstuffed belly and he'd let out a regretful groan. They'd said normal goodbyes, and Cas had gone into his house. So what the hell?

Whatever had crawled up Cas' ass, Dean was fairly sure it wasn't anything he'd done. And truthfully, any number of things could've happened between last night and today, so Dean resigned himself to giving his friend a day or so to get some sleep and then he'd text to check on him. After all, he was fairly sure that Cas wasn't severing the friendship, or he would've asked for his key back, right? Yeah, the guy was just having an off day.

Sunday afternoon rolled around, and Dean was just starting to doze off on the couch when the vibration of a text alert had him blinking startled eyes open, to see Cas' name on the screen.

>> **Is my couch ugly? I can't tell anymore.**

Dean blinked and frowned at his phone. How was he supposed to answer that? He barely even remembered the couch, having been otherwise occupied that morning. And apparently, Cas was over whatever it was that had been bothering him. Hmmm.

:: _I don't really remember, tbh. Isn't it grayish brown?_

>> **Yes.**

:: _Maybe not ugly, but sort of…boring? Sorry._

A couple of minutes passed without response, and Dean was beginning to wonder if he'd offended the man, when he got a reply.

>> **It's fine.** **Are you busy right now?**

 **::** _Not really, why?_

>> **I could use an opinion on something. Mind to come over?**

:: _Yeah, give me ten._

Dean felt relieved to have been invited over, even if it was just to talk presumably, about furniture. For one, it was a hell of a lot better than being bored to sleep at his own house, and for two, Cas seemed to be cool with continuing their friendship, which warmed Dean more than he expected. He briefly considered changing into a real outfit, but shrugged it off as he remembered that Cas had already seen him in his comfy clothes, and threw on a pair of sneakers. The heat and sheer humidity of the late afternoon made Dean gasp a little as he walked out of the house, but he didn't see the point in driving such a short distance.

The sun was just behind Cas' house as Dean was walking up, so he couldn't really see any details, except that it appeared that Cas was outside, digging around in a flowerbed in front of the house. God, he hoped Cas wasn't going to ask his opinion on flowers, because Dean knew practically nothing about gardening beyond what the average middle-schooler could tell you. As he stepped closer, Cas spoke without turning around.

"I swear, I'll shove this spade so far up your ass you'll taste fertilizer, if you open your mouth one more goddamned time about my flowers," Cas growled lowly, yanking brutally at a weed and tossing it aside.

Dean was shocked speechless for a moment at the way the curses and tone had flowed so easily from Cas' mouth. Obviously, the threat wasn't meant for him, considering that he'd never said a word about Cas' yard, so Dean took a risk and decided to tease.

"Eloquent. Poetic, even," Dean said, a laugh teetering on coming out.

Cas whirled around at that, eyes wide and mouth opening in horror, and Dean was helpless to hold back the laugh any longer. Seeing that Dean wasn't offended, the look of horror slid into something more like embarrassment, and Cas looked off to the side, swiping a dirt-covered wrist over his sweaty forehead. Dean felt his smile widen uncontrollably as the motion left a long brown smear across the skin. It was adorable, though Dean would never admit to thinking such a word.

"Sorry, thought you were Gabriel," Cas muttered, pulling his gardening gloves off and rising to his feet. He brushed his hands over his clothes, knocking dirt loose, and Dean took the opportunity to check Cas out while he was occupied.

It shouldn't have been so surprising, but it truly was, seeing the man dressed in something besides his work clothes. Today, it was a well-worn faded flannel with the sleeves rolled to the elbow and a pair of old jeans, grass and mud-stained and ripped at one knee. Dean couldn't help but enjoy the sight of the man, usually so neat, looking bedraggled by dirt and sweat and manual work. It was nice to see this different side of Cas, and more revealing than Dean had expected; it actually made him relax, seeing that not only was Cas not afraid to get his hands dirty, but apparently also didn't have quite as much of a stick up his ass as Dean had previously thought.

"I'd invite you in, but I don't want to subject you to my brother. He's…well, frankly, he's a pain in the ass," Cas sighed, putting his hands on his hips and giving a little apologetic smile.

Dean snorted and clapped Cas on the shoulder. "Sorry Cas, but that's just part of the older brother handbook," he winked.

Cas rolled his eyes and huffed. "I forgot that you're one, too. Are you a pain in the ass to Sam?"

"Every chance I get," Dean said with a cheesy grin. "So, what did-"

"Well hello there, handsome," came an overly enthusiastic voice, from the porch above them.

" _Gabriel,_ " Cas said warningly, while Dean tipped his head back to look up.

Completely unfazed by Castiel's glare and tone, Gabriel leaned over to rest his elbows on the porch railing, a wide smile on his face that contradicted the sharp look in his eyes. Dean knew that look; hell, he'd given that look before, when meeting new friends of Sam's when they were kids.

"What? I call it like I see it," Gabriel shrugged. "So. Gonna glare at me like a pissed off cat, or introduce me to your friend, Cassie?"

Dean may have privately agreed with the description, but that didn't mean he cared for Gabriel's brash way of speaking and automatically sort of disliked him. Instead of letting the guy lord himself over them, Dean walked up the steps and directly onto the porch to stand in front of Gabriel, sticking his hand out.

"Dean Winchester," he said simply.

Gabriel chose to sweep his gaze over Dean in the same calculated way that Cas had when they'd first met, the only giveaway so far that the two were related; they looked nothing alike, confusingly. Finally, the shorter man took Dean's hand and shook it with an almost too-tight grip.

"Gabriel Milton," he said, eyeing Dean for a moment before letting go. "And as much as I'd love to see you two wax domestic, I've got some shit to do in town. Nice meeting you, Dean-o."

Dean frowned at the casual nickname thrown out there and was sorely tempted to snark at the man, but what could he say? He was standing there in his comfies with the intention of talking to Cas about furniture, while the man was gardening, and all Dean had was a vague dislike for Gabriel. Nothing to really work with, so Dean just nodded.

"You too," he said tersely.

Something about that seemed to amuse Gabriel, who threw him a wink and made a loud, obnoxious popping noise with the gum that he apparently had in his mouth.

"I'll be back in a couple of hours, Cassie," Gabriel said, as he walked down the steps.

"Where are you going?" Cas asked, looking somewhat suspicious.

Gabriel paused next to the two other men, a wolfish smirk lifting his lips.

"Hopefully, to help Mistress Magda test out her new-"

Cas held up a hand, cutting Gabriel off. "Nevermind, I don't want to know, and I doubt Dean does, either."

Dean groaned internally for his friend, knowing that that was the worst thing Cas could've said to make Gabriel shut up. After all, it's part of the older sibling code to make things as uncomfortable as possible, and especially once the younger one makes protest.

"Oh come on, we're all grown-ups here. Nothing wrong with enjoying a little bit of bondage from time to time. Am I right, Dean-o?" Gabriel asked, elbowing Dean in the ribs. "You look like a guy that can appreciate the finer things in life, unlike Vanilla McFuddydud over there," he said, nodding his head toward Cas.

Before Dean could even form an answer, Cas huffed as he crossed his arms over his chest and cut in with, "I am not boring."

Dean was surprised at how indignant Cas seemed at the implication that he was boring in the sack, and couldn't help but dart his eyes between the two brothers, more entertained than he probably should be.

Gabriel snorted a laugh and rolled his eyes. "Please. I bet you don't have anything more exciting than old issues of Better Homes and Gardens and cough drops in your nightstand. In fact," he said, backing up toward the front steps, "I think I'm going to just go verify that right now."

"Don't you dare," Cas snarled.

But then Gabriel gave a wicked smirk and dashed up the steps, and Cas glanced at Dean looking somehow both apologetic and utterly mortified, flushed clear to the tips of his ears, before taking off after Gabriel.

It didn't take all that much to put together that Cas must have some things that he definitely didn't want seen in his nightstand, and Dean blinked at the front door while he processed that information. A moment later he heard a small crash from inside and Cas shouting profanities, and wondered if he should go in and break up what might be a fistfight. The door was still wide open, so Dean opted instead to take a seat on the porch swing and keep an ear out for anything that might sound like he needed to intervene, but giving the brothers privacy to hash out their thing.

It was mostly quiet for a minute, and then Gabriel came strutting through the door, keys already out and glancing to Dean once he was on the ground.

"Word of advice: do NOT judge a person by their sweater vest," he said, looking vaguely uncomfortable, then shuddering. At the sudden appearance of Cas in the doorway, Gabriel grimaced. "Later," he called, sprinting to Cas' car and hopping in.

Cas growled a frustrated sound and flipped off his brother as he watched the car back out of the driveway, to which he received a short honk of the horn in response. As soon as the car was on the street, Cas looked over and seemed surprised to see Dean still there on the porch, before the look turned to a sort of helpless embarrassment.

"I'm sorry about that little display, and I apologize if he made you uncomfortable," Cas said, not quite able to make eye contact and shuffling his weight from foot to foot. "My brother is an overgrown man-child, and really wouldn't hesitate to bring…personal items out, for the sole purpose of embarrassing me."

"Nah, man, it's cool. Nothin' wrong with having a stash of stuff to help you get your groove on. Your brother's kind of a dick, though," he said. At Cas' incredulous look, Dean sighed. "Sorry, I probably shouldn't have said that."

"No," Cas said carefully, "Gabriel is definitely a dick. I'm just surprised that you would imply something so personal as a stash of your own," he said, bluntness returning.

And yeah, maybe he should've thought this through a little better; Dean's intention had been to make sure Cas didn't feel judged, but he hadn't exactly considered what that would mean admitting about himself. Shit. This was definitely crossing normal friendship boundaries, but then again, Cas had also been slowly desensitizing Dean to these sorts of boundaries over the last week with his directness. In fact, now that he thought about it, Dean had probably had more honest conversations with Cas recently than he had with anyone else in a long time.

"Why?" Dean asked, then clarified, "I mean, why are you surprised?"

The sound of voices and car doors opening next door stole Cas' attention for a moment, and then he tilted his head toward the door and walked inside, Dean following behind. Yeah, they probably shouldn't have been having that conversation on the front porch on a Sunday afternoon. Whoops.

Cas didn't answer as they walked to the kitchen, and not even through the process of pouring up a couple of glasses of sweet tea for each of them, before walking over to the table and sitting down. If it weren't for the pinch of Cas' brows, Dean would've thought the man had forgotten what they were talking about, but he'd been around Cas just enough to know that he was considering his words. After a long swig of tea, Cas leaned back in his seat and unbuttoned a couple of buttons on his shirt, fanning it out in front of himself in an effort to cool off.

"Going on previous experience with the um, glovebox, and your reaction that day, I suppose I thought that you would be…somewhat uptight about sex in general," Cas finally said.

This was as far from a normal topic of discussion for Dean to have with a friend as possible, and typically he'd have changed the subject by now, but his mouth just kept on, ignoring his brain.

"Oh trust me, I'm not uptight about sex, dude. I was just caught off-guard by a stranger finding my fun time supplies," Dean said, flirty smirk tugging at his lips on automatic. He wasn't trying to flirt, but damned if the only people he ever talked to about sex were people he intended on having it with, so yeah, it was a sort of involuntary response. Interestingly though, Cas didn't look uncomfortable with Dean's suggestiveness at all; in fact, he had an eyebrow quirked and was looking at Dean with a sort of attentiveness that hadn't been there before.

"What?"

Cas shook his head slightly, but Dean just quirked his own eyebrow as he took a sip of his own tea. After several seconds of stubborn eye contact, Cas caved.

"You just continue to surprise me, is all."

"How so?" Dean asked, genuinely curious.

"Well, you've just never talked about any exes or hookups or anything, so I suppose I assumed that you would be sort of closed off to this sort of conversation," Cas shrugged casually.

"As for the exes, I don't talk about them because most people don't care about that shit, and there isn’t much to say, anyway. Figured you probably don't wanna hear about my adventures in bathroom blowjobs either," Dean shrugged, proud of how cool he was able to keep his demeanor.

So maybe he was baiting Cas a little with that last part, trying to get a read on him. It worked, because Dean noticed the way Cas' eyes flicked down to his lips, and that thoughtful pinch of his brow appeared as he met Dean's eyes again. Probably trying to figure out who was blowing whom.

"Weren't you afraid of getting caught?" Cas asked.

Dean couldn't help but chuckle a bit at the unexpected question. Not that he had any real expectation of where in the hell this conversation was going, but still.

"Come on, isn't that half the fun of it?" Dean asked, knowing how close he was toeing the boundaries. "If it weren't, _you_ wouldn't have gone skinny-dipping."

Surprisingly, Cas smirked at that. "That's true. I just didn't think that would be your sort of thing," he said, looking at Dean through his lashes.

Something palpable shifted between them, and Dean knew that this would be the absolute best time to board the train to Nopeville, but something about that fucking smirk was just not convincing Dean to hand over his ticket just yet. Sure, he liked being friends with Cas, but there was also something sort of intoxicating about flirting with him, and Dean just wasn't ready to stop yet.

"Hmmm. So it is _your_ sort of thing then, huh?" he asked boldly. "Ever get busy in the stacks, Cas?"

A light blush spread on Cas' cheeks, but he didn't look away. "No, but I've thought about it."

It was Dean's turn to blush then, as every bit of work he'd been doing to prevent dirtybad thoughts of Cas popping in, was swept away in a rush of imagery that decidedly involved Dean's mouth on Cas' dick while the man bit his lip to keep quiet in the library. Jesus. It also didn't help that Dean saw the way Cas shifted a little in his seat, and was fairly certain that they were both probably sporting the beginnings of some not-so-platonic erections. Masochistically, neither of them seemed to be able to look away for a long moment, until Cas cleared his throat and shifted again. Dean unconsciously mimicked him, and was certain that things were about to get awkward, because there was no way that Cas didn't know what was going on. Yep, time to board the train and start a new thread of conversa-

"What are you thinking about?" Cas asked quietly, his face frustratingly neutral.

Oh god, was Cas really doing this? Holy hell, this is so far from what Dean had expected when he'd left the house.

"You sure you want an honest answer to that question?" Dean husked, leaning into the table a little bit.

He couldn't help but notice the way Cas' Adam's apple bobbled as he swallowed and felt gratified, having the further proof that Cas was just as affected by the conversation as he was.

"Yeah, I do," Cas responded, voice nearly a whisper, and eyes laser-focused on Dean's.

Dean took a deep breath and released it slowly. Fine then, if Cas really wanted to know…

"I was thinking about the fact that I'm pretty sure that you're just as turned on as I am, and we're sitting here trying to hold a conversation as if nothing is out of the ordinary," Dean admitted, knowing exactly how thin the thread was that they were balancing on.

Cas' breath hitched and his eyes went dark in a way that had Dean pushing the heel of his palm into his crotch, just needing any sort of relief at that moment. He knew distantly that it was probably not an okay thing to do right there at a friend's table, but it felt too good, and Cas didn't seem to mind, so Dean did it again. This time, he had to bite back a moan, and heard Cas breathe an awed _goddamn._

"Dean," Cas began, voice dipping down into a deep gravel that was much more suited to being spoken next to one's ear, "If we're being frank with each other now, then I'm going to go ahead and admit that I really would like to jerk off right about now. Would you like to join me?"

Dean was up out of his chair so fast that he nearly knocked it over behind him, all self-consciousness forgotten with the promise of release. Cas gave a filthy chuckle that shot straight to Dean's dick, and when Dean looked up, he realized that Cas was unabashedly eyeballing his crotch. _Well if he gets to, then I do too,_ Dean thought, letting his eyes wander downward. And his previous assumptions from his observation of the khakis the other day were proven true as he took in the impressive-looking erection pressing against the front of Cas' jeans. But then Cas was walking toward him and wrapping a hand around Dean's bicep as he went, practically dragging Dean with him to the living room.

Well that was just all manner of hot, and Dean was more than glad to let Cas pull him along, because the man was actually the first in many years that didn't seem content to let Dean take the lead. As soon as they were at the couch, Cas sat down sideways, facing the arm and looked up.

"My only request is that we do this back-to-back," he said, tugging at Dean's wrist.

Dean acquiesced, figuring that maybe Cas needed some modicum of privacy to do his thing, and sat down, settling his back against Cas'. It felt good, having the sensation of Cas' weight settling against his own, and Dean spared a moment to just lean for a second and relish the heat he could feel pouring off the other man. But then there was the distinct sound of a zipper lowering, and that was it. Dean didn't waste any more time and pushed his shorts and boxers down so he could pull himself out.

Not even an entire stroke in, Dean heard _and_ felt Cas take a shuddering breath, and then felt the muscles in Cas' shoulder beginning a rhythm, spurring Dean on to start his own. Cas' head dropped back to rest against Dean's, seeming pleased at feeling Dean's own movements, and the man let out a long breath.

After a minute or so of this, Dean couldn't help but notice how quiet they were both being, and Dean…was feeling a bit cheated and not getting to hear the loudness that Cas had teased when he'd ordered through the drive through that day.

"Awfully quiet back there. You still alive?" Dean asked playfully.

Cas shifted against him until he was laying his head on top of Dean's shoulder and looking up at him. Dean moved a bit to the side so he could look down at the man and was met with two very dilated pupils. They were so close that Dean could feel Cas' breaths tickling his neck, but the angle was all wrong for a kiss, even though it would've been an excellent time to do as much. Just as well, though; harder to play it off as a friendly round of mutual later, when you've kissed your friend.

"Do you not mind for us to hear each other?" Cas asked, looking a bit confused.

Dean gave a breathy chuckle and shook his head slightly. "Nope. Let it all out, Cas. Might as well enjoy yourself."

He expected Cas to shift back around, but the man seemed perfectly content to stay right where he was for the moment, and closed his eyes as he picked his rhythm back up. A few seconds later, a low, closed-mouth moan sounded right next to Dean's ear in high-def.

"God, Cas," he rasped, hand tightening and grunting louder than he meant to at the change in pressure.

He felt Cas speed up, and could now detect that the sound was…slicker? than it had been seconds before.

Caught up in the moment, Dean's filter dropped, and words were tumbling out.

"Your dick just get all wet from hearing me next to your ear, Cas?"

Cas let out a throaty grunt at that, and sped up. "Fuck, Dean."

"Mmmm, that's what I like to hear. Got me wet too, you know," he murmured.

"You've got an awfully filthy mouth, Dean," Cas said raggedly.

Hearing that voice saying those words was bad enough, but the fact that he could feel the vibration of it through his back added a whole new sensation that Dean wasn't prepared for and a loud groan burst forth.

"Seems like you're enjoying it just fine," Dean grunted out.

A chuckle that was more breath than sound breezed over his ear and sent a shiver down Dean's spine.

"Are your ears sensitive, Dean?" Cas purred.

Just the thought of the implication of Cas mouthing at him, combined with his voice was unraveling Dean faster than he was quite ready for, but all he could do at the moment was nod.

"I wonder what kind of sounds you'd make," Cas began, shifting for a moment before he continued, face much closer to Dean's neck now. "If I were to touch you just so."

Dean's balls tightened in anticipation, and then the sensation of his earlobe being sucked ever so gently between teeth had him gulping for air, not actually expecting Cas to do it. A loud, involuntary keening noise sounded in his throat, and he felt Cas' breath shudder against his ear, making it worse.

"Fuck Cas, gonna-"

Then the teeth were back with a nibble and a harder suck, and between that, the rasp of Cas' stubble against his neck, and the quiet moan that Cas let out right then, Dean couldn't take any more.

"Oh my _god_ , Cas," Dean moaned, body curling inward as he came over his fist, stars exploding behind his eyelids as he worked himself through it.

He distantly heard Cas make a choked off noise, but the man still seemed to be teetering on the edge, and Dean wanted nothing more in that moment than to have the satisfaction of pushing Cas over, as well. Dean leaned his head back on Cas' shoulder now, and didn't hesitate to rake his teeth across the base of his neck briefly, grinning at the little moan the action elicited.

"What about you? Bet I could pull all kinds of sounds out of you," Dean whispered.

"Dean-"

Dean chuckled at the near-whine is Cas' tone.

"Not gonna touch you, though. Bet I could make you come just from my voice," Dean husked, pleased at the way he could feel Cas shaking and panting against him. God, but the man was close. "But I also wonder what else does it for you. You like knowing that I can feel how close you are? Hear how wet your cock is while you're fucking your hand with me right next to you? God, Cas, I came so fucking hard just hearing-"

Dean was abruptly cut off by a loud moan, and the sensation of Cas' body bowing up off the couch, pushing heavily into Dean's back as he groaned curses. A few seconds later, Cas slumped heavily back onto the couch, body tightening with sporadic little spasms in the aftermath. Dean wasn't sure what exact thing he said might have triggered it, but it didn't take a genius to know that Cas got off _hard_ , and he couldn't help the victorious grin that took over his face at a job well done. He was glad that Cas couldn't see his face at the moment, because Dean was fairly sure that the grin would probably earn him a stink eye, and with that thought he actively worked on toning it down.

After a minute or two of calm-down time, Cas shifted, then paused.

"Just warning you, I'm about to sit up, so you don't fall over," he said, voice pleasingly wrecked.

A moment later, a couple of tissues were being passed over Dean's shoulder, and by some unspoken agreement, they cleaned up with their backs still to each other. Now that the endorphins had calmed down, Dean realized exactly how awkward this could get as he debated what to do. He didn't want to be an asshole and just leave like some one-night stand, but he didn't know if Cas was as laid-back about these kinds of things and would maybe regret it.

Before he could worry over it too much, Cas turned to face forward in his seat, and Dean followed suit. To his relief, Cas looked pretty much the same as always, with the addition of an extra flush to his cheeks and his lower lip looking a bit swollen- probably from biting on it.

"Would you like some more tea?"

Dean blinked at the question, delivered as if everything was completely normal. Well then. Not that Dean's offended or has his feelings hurt, but maybe a bit surprised by what was clearly going to be an utter lack of discussion.

"Don’t overthink it," Cas said lightly, tilting his head with a pointed look.

Clearing his throat, Dean offered a small smile of his own, relieved more than anything.

"Yeah, I'll take another glass."

A few minutes later, Cas returned with full glasses and a smudge-free forehead, grumbling as he sat down, "You could've told me I had dirt on my face. I'm sure that's really attractive."

Okay, so apparently the incident wasn't being completely swept under the rug. Dean didn't bother to hold back his chuckle, and earned a mild narrow-eyed glare. He'd love to say something to reassure Cas of his permanent sexy status, but that's dangerously close to pillow talk, so Dean goes with the next best thing and gives the man an affectionate squeeze on the knee.

"So…not that I'm displeased at all, but why'd you come over today?" Cas asked after a pause.

"Geez, Cas, I didn't think you were old enough to be forgetting stuff already," Dean teased. At the puzzled look he got, he clarified, "You sent me a text? Something about your couch?"

More puzzlement.

Then something like apprehension flickered in Cas' eyes and he darted them around the room, until they landed on his phone, sitting innocuously on the armrest of the armchair. In an instant he was on his feet and fiddling with the phone, letting out an irritated sigh after a few seconds.

"Gabriel," he hissed under his breath, seeming to realize he'd done it after the fact. When he glanced to Dean, he had a little bit of the deer in headlights thing going before it morphed into a look of discomfort. Huh.

"Been talkin' bout me Cas?" Dean teased. "Hope you've been telling him good things."

Cas' frown only deepened, and he seemed to be thinking something over as he stroked a thumb over his phone absently.

"My brother is incredibly nosy," Cas finally said. "And I suppose he realized that I wasn't going to subject you to him, so he took matters into his own hands so he could meet you."

The words came out cautiously, and Dean could tell there was more to it than that, but Cas clearly didn't want to talk anymore on that particular subject.

"Do you want me to go before he gets back?" Dean asked, feeling a bit uncomfortable himself.

"No, not really. I'm glad you came over," Cas said a bit shyly, then. "But I don’t think you want to be here when he gets back. Unless you're a masochist and enjoy inappropriate comments and invasive questions."

No, Dean is definitely not good with uncomfortable lines of questioning, and especially from people that live to fluster other people.

"You're not gonna be mad at me if I go, are you?" Dean asked. "Don’t wanna leave you to the wolves or anything, but…" he trailed off as he stood up.

Cas was fast to shake his head, stepping closer to the couch. "No, I don't blame you, seriously. And I'll be fine…just obnoxious older brother stuff as usual."

"Alright, well I'm gonna head, then. And um, give me a call or something when he's out of your hair, if you want," Dean said with a little shrug.

"That would be nice," Cas said, looking more relaxed.

With a small grin and a squeeze to Cas' shoulder as he passed by, Dean made his way to the front door, calling out a 'later, Cas' over his shoulder as he walked out.


	6. Do-Over

It was a good thing that Dean took Cas' suggestion and left before Gabriel got back, because the conversation was exactly as uncomfortable and irritating as Cas had expected it to be when his brother came strolling in a few hours later. Gabriel was smug as ever, body language relaxed and movements fluid, and noticeable red marks circling his wrists that Cas really didn't want to think about. He'd thought Gabriel might have teasing about his motive for leaving, just to stir the pot and have an excuse to leave Cas and Dean alone, but there was no denying the fact that Gabriel was carrying the air of someone freshly fucked and far too pleased with himself. Cas had given his brother a warning glare, but as usual, Gabriel ignored it, flopping himself down on the armchair with an unnecessarily loud, pleased sigh.

Unsurprisingly, Gabriel needled at him for information with an unholy amount of increasingly ridiculous innuendoes, but Cas swiftly navigated them, unwilling to give his brother any more information than necessary. _Yes, Dean stuck around for a visit; no, he didn't act any different so the mug shots probably remained unseen; yes, he thinks you're an ass_.

As Gabriel's innuendos increased in his effort to find out what Cas and Dean did in his absence, Cas' patience decreased, finally snapping when Gabriel decided to start in on what he'd found in Cas' nightstand earlier, and inquiring as to whether Cas had shown Dean his collection.

"You've got gadgets and gizmos a'plenty. You've got whosits and whatsits galore," Gabriel attempted to sing through a string of chuckles.

"Fuck off, Gabriel," Cas growled.

Gabriel only broke out in a peal of laughter, still attempting to sing through it. "Thingamabobs?-ehehehe- You've got twenty," he stopped with a wheeze.

Cas opened his mouth to warn his brother one last time, but Gabriel completely ignored the snarl on Cas' face, skipping a line to get to what he probably thought was comic gold. "No big deal, you want mooooooore," he sang, throwing in a lewd hip gesture.

Realizing that his reactions were only baiting his older brother even more, Cas pushed his lips together tightly and turned on his heel, walking out of the room without another word. Gabriel called after him, but Cas ignored him and went to the kitchen to retrieve a beer. And no, he most certainly was _not_ going to offer one to his asshole brother. Of course the moment of peace only lasted three swigs into his beer, before Gabriel came strolling in, still amused with himself, but at least subdued from the outright laughter he'd been enjoying a few minutes before. Cas cut him a glare for intruding, and Gabriel gave an exaggerated eyeroll and sigh.

"Okay, I get it. You're pissed at me for being nosy and messing with your phone, yada ya, bullshit-bullshit. But come on, you know I'm leaving in the morning, and we both know you weren't going to let me get a look at him. Just wanted to see for myself, alright?" Gabriel said, only sounding somewhat apologetic. "And for what it's worth, I'm pretty damn sure he plays for both teams."

"I know," Cas said primly. "And that's all I'm giving you, so don't ask any more," Cas added.

A grin split Gabriel's face at that. "Why Cassie, did you cross the streams?" he asked with an eyebrow waggle.

"I don't think that's an appropriate use of that particular reference," Cas said, nose scrunching up.

Gabriel's eyebrows pulled together for a moment before he nodded. "Yeah, okay, maybe not my finest. What about swords, then?"

Cas huffed at his brother's infinite ability to stay on topic when he actually wanted to, which was usually when no one else wanted him to.

"No, no swords were crossed. Now shut the hell up about it," Cas said testily.

"Fine, fine," Gabriel said, holding his hands up in surrender, before a smirk tugged at his entire face. "I found out what I wanted to know, anyway."

Thankfully, the rest of the day went by with minimal teasing, and ended up being fairly subdued, considering the company. After a late dinner, the brothers retreated to the living room, and Gabriel let out a thoughtful sigh after several minutes of silence as they'd each gotten distracted by the infamous Leif Garrett edition of Behind the Music.

"He's like the human version of the Harry Potter Weekend," Gabriel commented. "But for like the last fifteen years."

Cas gave a little laugh of agreement, turning to look at his brother. Gabriel was giving him a rare pensive look that made Cas feel a bit like a bug under a microscope.

"Dean aside, I think you're making the right decision," Gabriel began, apropos of nothing. "It's time you started living your life for yourself and getting what _you_ want out of it, baby bro. You know, taking advantage of the freedom that us _grown-ups_ have," he said with a small, but genuine smile.

Cas hadn't shared his epiphany with Gabriel, but he also wasn't surprised that his brother had figured it out, even if Cas hadn't really been acting or doing anything all that different the last few days.

"I still don't know where to begin," Cas confessed.

Gabriel tilted his head in thought for a moment, truly considering what advice he could offer. Sure, he could be a dick, but at the end of the day he was still Cas' older brother.

"Maybe a change in wardrobe really would be a good place to start. It's small, but still a sort of self-expression, and something you can do away from work," Gabriel shrugged. Then he let his eyes flit over the living room, wrinkling his nose. "And on that note, you could also stand to ditch the grandma thing you've got going in here. I mean, really, Cassie? Cream colored walls? Beige curtains? I wouldn't be surprised if you've got doilies stashed somewhere."

Cas ignored the last part, but looked around, cringing a bit as he looked at the room with fresh eyes. It wasn't an ugly or unpleasant room, but it was certainly generic to the point of impersonal, except for the bookcases. He supposed it really had been awfully negligent of him not to bother painting at all after he'd moved in.

"It's pretty bad isn't it?" Cas asked, having no choice but to concede to Gabriel's point.

In response, Gabriel merely quirked an eyebrow as if to say, 'You're just now noticing?'.

"You know you could also use this little mixed tape game. Ease yourself in to getting used to not hiding yourself so much. If you're lucky, Dean will still like you, but if not, at least you'll have gotten some practice in, until you're ready to go find other people with your interests again," Gabriel offered.

Cas nodded his agreement, though he carefully contained the wave of anxiety that washed over him at the new thought. Did he even know what he actually liked anymore? What kinds of people would he really want to spend time around these days? The thought that he didn't know the answers to these basic questions and therefore may truly have lost himself over the years was terrifying. He'd been mostly avoiding these lines of thought the last few days for this very reason. It's not like he wanted to just pick right up where he left off in his early twenties; sure, his personality hadn’t really changed as far as who he is at his core, but he wasn't interested in acting with the bold recklessness his youth had carried, either.

"I think you're right," Cas said, surprised at how collected he sounded, because inwardly, his stomach was doing its best impression of a towel being twisted and wrung out. "Thanks, Gabe."

"Aw, don't go getting all mushy on me now, Cassie," Gabriel said sarcastically. "I know you can get all kinds of sentimental, but you gotta conceal, don't feel," he added dryly.

The quip brought an eyeroll that came to him out of habit more than anything, but his mind was elsewhere. Needing to distract himself, Cas changed the subject to discussing Gabriel's departure plans the next day, secretly relieved when Gabriel informed him that he didn't need a ride to the airport. If Cas really was thinking about thinking about quitting the library, he didn't want to miss any more work than necessary, so he could leave his job on a positive note.

That didn't mean he was going to turn down Gabriel's offer to smoke him out before bed, however. Cas had pretty much no possibility of getting a drug test at work, and his thoughts were too scrambled to even hope to get any sleep that night, so hitting the bowl a few times sounded like a fantastic idea. Like so many other things about his brother, Cas didn't even question how or where Gabriel procured the weed, and how he intended on getting through the airport with a pipe in his bag. No doubt, Gabriel would leave the baggie behind, at least smart enough to not attempt taking _that_ with him. Whatever. Cas was feeling too pliant and fuzzy and content to care, and when he had the realization that he literally felt like his ass was melding with the couch cushion and couldn't tell where one began and the other ended, he figured it was the perfect time to shuffle himself off to bed.

***

Dean was glad that he had nowhere to be for the rest of the day, because the moment he left Cas' house, he felt off. He'd jerked off with friends and been able to sniff and go about his day before, but this was different. For one, regular friends do not touch, much less lean against each other while they're jerking off. For two, they also don't dirty talk each other toward completion. And for three? They sure as hell don't put their mouths on each other's skin or imply that they'd like to make the one get off to only the other's voice.

And for four: they aren't supposed to feel like a sack of shit for dipping out right afterward like a bad hookup. Especially when there'd been nothing bad about it.

Dean was fully aware that he was attracted to Cas; he'd known that since the first time they'd met. But now that they'd been easing into friendship and not even anywhere near dating, Dean wasn't sure how this was supposed to go now. Was this just one of those random one-off things that they won't ever bring up again? Or were they going to become some sort of fuck buddies? Were they even going to be able to have a friendship after this? Shit. He was really starting to like hanging out with Cas, and he didn't want their barely sprouting friendship to get stunted before it could even truly begin. But in all honesty, Dean also wasn't lying when he'd word-vomited that he'd wondered what Cas' turn-ons were, and even now couldn't help but wonder.

Cas himself had warned him not to overthink it, so maybe Dean should just roll with it. He could do that right? Okay, so maybe what they'd done had been a little…different, but hey, all they'd done was help each other out in the absence of porn. No biggie. Still though, it really had felt inconsiderate to just leave like that, even if there had been good reason to do it.

Maybe Cas was just way more sexually liberal than Dean had expected, and there really wasn't anything to freak out about. Actually, considering Cas' general lack of boundaries and the way he'd spoken at the table before they had their little adventure, that's probably exactly what it is.

Naturally, Dean's thoughts wandered to the exchange between Cas and Gabriel over Cas' personal stash, and frustratingly, Dean's dick decided to perk up at the idea of what exactly Cas may have in his inventory. After twenty minutes of unsuccessfully trying to ignore the image of Cas going to town on himself with any number of toys, Dean finally gave in and did the 'rub-out of shame', coming in an embarrassingly short amount of time to the memory of a startlingly detailed replay of what they'd done that day.

Fuck. That wasn't even part of his go-to spank bank material. That was so fresh, that when he took off his shirt to clean himself off, Dean got a distinct whiff of grass and sunshine and sweat and _Cas_ on the back of it as he'd pulled it over his head.

Tossing the shirt into the corner of the room, Dean sighed and then promptly lay down to take the nap he'd been working toward before he'd gotten the text earlier. Maybe his brain could sort some of this out for him on autopilot while he slept.

***

While it may have been quite some time since Cas had done anything like what he'd done with Dean, it certainly wasn't anything new. Well, maybe the intimate tone of it was different than what he'd done before, but he wasn't bothered by it, either. In fact, it was probably one of the more erotic experiences he'd had in the last few years. More than that though, the way Dean had opened himself up went a long way in making Cas feel more confident that Dean wasn't as uptight as Cas had originally thought. So maybe Gabriel was right, and just maybe, Dean really could handle finding out that there's more to Cas than his sweater vest.

Maybe Cas could be okay, learning to be himself again.

With this thought brewing in his head all day through work on Monday, Cas felt determination building inside him until he'd decided that after his shift, it was time to go shopping.

Normally, Cas viewed shopping as a necessary evil and avoided it until necessary, but this time it was different. Instead of going straight for the sections that held his normal choices, he let himself wander from store to store, buying a shirt here, a belt there, trying on a few different styles of jeans, and keeping a completely open mind. If he liked something on the hanger, he tried it, and if he liked the way he felt in it, he bought it, not giving a shit about whether it was stylish or career appropriate or any of that labeling shit. Nope. If he liked it, it was his, and that was that. He even managed to find a pair of boots he liked, as well as a new pair of dressier shoes, and a pair of raspberry colored sneakers.

Once he'd gotten home and laid out all his purchases on the bed to look at them, he realized that somehow his personal style was actually a lot more all over the place than he'd expected. God, it was actually kind of a mess. He still couldn't help but smile as he looked at it all though, because none of it was anything like he'd ever bought before, and it felt good seeing things that he genuinely liked.

For the first time since Gabriel had shown up, Castiel had gone to sleep that night with a satisfying sort of tiredness, and his first true spark of optimism in years. It had felt so good in fact, that when he got up the next morning, well-rested and calm, it actually caught him off guard when he looked through his closet to pick out his clothes for the work day. Until he'd let himself go wild on the things that actually expressed him, Cas hadn't realized just how much he'd been tucking himself away. Dammit, he kind of hated that his brother had been right, but equally, he was glad that Gabriel had come in and dropped some truth on him.

Still though, he went through his painfully practical wardrobe and picked something out, conceding to his blossoming change of attitude by wearing a pair of magenta briefs so he could at least have one thing on his person that he enjoyed. His more buoyant mood must have been noticeable, because Tessa lifted a questioning eyebrow at him from behind the front desk as he walked into work, a small smile on her lips when he just shrugged with his own small smile. Over the course of the day he found himself feeling a more genuine fondness for working among the books than he'd felt in a while, that simultaneously made him happy, yet also yearn for more.

Between the first good night's sleep he'd had in a while and the excitement of doing something about the rut he'd been in, Castiel was feeling an odd sort of antsiness by lunch. When he was younger, it was the feeling that always led to something impulsive, but there was nothing specific he wanted to do at the moment. He munched absently on his carrot sticks and sandwich, considering whether he should attempt something new in his self-search that evening, or slow his roll and let himself get used to one thing at a time. There were any number of things he could do, but only one came to mind that he actually felt like doing, because while the trip the day before had felt like something being resolved, today he wanted stimulation. Without another thought, he pulled out his phone and opened up his messaging screen to start a new message.

**> > I'm somewhat bored and a bit antsy. Care to share a meal later?**

It took Dean a few minutes, but he sent back a reply.

_:: If this is Gabriel, you can just stop right there._

Cas snickered at the response, wondering if Dean's reply had taken so long because he was trying to find a less offensive way of saying 'fuck off'.

**> > No, Gabe went home this morning. Just me.**

_:: Prove it._

With a sigh, Cas considered his response for a moment.

**> > Blue hoodie.**

_:: Heya Cas :) And yeah, sounds good. What're you thinking to eat?_

**> > I don't know. Figure it out later? **

_:: That's fine. Wanna come over after you're off?_

This is where Cas felt suddenly awkward and a little less bold for the first time all day. Should they maybe just meet somewhere, instead? But then that might seem like a date, so better not. He didn't want to spend too long without a reply though, because that could give off the wrong impression too, so he decided on the lesser of two evils.

**> > That works. I'll see you then.**

_:: Alright. Spare key's behind a fake spigot at the front on the right, in case you get there before me. Just lift it up like a hatch._

The gesture of trust made Cas' stomach feel pleasantly warm. This is something friends do, and it's been a long time since Cas had a friendship like that.

**> > Thank you, Dean. **

Dean only sent back a little smiley face, but Cas hadn't expected more than that anyway, and pocketed his phone, cramming the rest of his sandwich in his mouth before he had to get back to work. It was only after his afternoon break that Cas remembered the air conditioning at Dean's house and realized that perhaps a change of clothing might be in order, if he truly intended on testing Dean's limits a little more.

***

Scrolling through his and Cas' text conversation, Dean was struck with the almost disgusting domesticity of it all. Christ, what was he thinking, offering up the spare key and everything? Had he seriously been that worried about Cas avoiding him that he'd gone all pseudo-clingy? It's embarrassing, but at least Cas hadn't seemed to mind or notice. Just to keep things balanced though, he pointedly kept up his regular pace at work and didn't rush to get home any faster than usual. No sense looking desperate, after all.

Surprisingly, Cas wasn't there yet when Dean pulled in- considering that he got off work earlier than Dean- so he took advantage of it and hopped in the shower while he apparently had a minute. Since there was a chance that they might end up leaving to eat, Dean opted to put on a pair of non-work jeans, and a soft gray t-shirt that was maybe just a little tight around the shoulders. So sue him, maybe he wouldn't mind a little more contact with Cas, if the man seemed interested. And if not, oh well, at least Dean looked presentable. When he came out into the living room, he almost startled at the sight of Cas already lounging on the couch, one arm curled lazily above his head while he watched an episode of Seinfeld. Oh yeah, he'd told Cas about the key.

"Hey dude," Dean announced himself.

Cas startled a bit, then craned his head to look around the couch. "Hey," he said with what almost looked like a sort of nervous grin.

Shrugging it off- because hey, he's still learning to read Cas- Dean came around the couch and plopped down on the other end, but instead of bothering the footrest, turned sideways to lean against the arm. May as well, since they were going to have to talk about dinner. It wasn't until he'd settled that his eyes really took in Cas, and Dean barely stopped a sharp inhale.

The clothing wasn't anything crazy, but it was certainly different from what he'd seen Cas in any other time. The man was wearing what Dean was certain would be fairly tight jeans once he stood, a powdery-blue t-shirt that was very purposely thin and soft, and a pair of pinkish red sneakers. Where one would even find those in a men's department, Dean had no clue. But somehow, Cas was getting away with it, non-matching and all. And that stupid arm was still curled above Cas' head, showing off the relaxed curve of his muscle, and the obviously smooth skin under his bicep, making Dean wonder if other parts of Cas were soft like that. But then his eyes moved to Cas' chest, and Dean couldn't help but narrow his eyes in disbelief at what he was seeing.

"Uh…not trying to be weird here, but dude. Are your _nipples_ pierced?" Dean asked, figuring he may as well start taking Cas' approach and being blunt with the guy.

It's a subtle movement, but Dean does notice the way Cas swallows a little bit as he drops his arm back down, looking down at his own chest before meeting Dean's eye again. Was he seriously nervous about this?

"Yeah, they're pierced," Cas said, eyebrows raised above resigned eyes. Open. Waiting for Dean's appraisal.

Without thinking, Dean raised his hand and realized halfway through moving that regardless of shared orgasms, it is so not acceptable to touch your friend's nipples without some sort of permission, and dropped his hand abruptly, hoping Cas hadn't noticed.

Cas noticed, if the amused smirk on his face was anything to go by.

Dean cleared his throat and looked away, feeling the blush rise up on his cheeks. "That's pretty cool, Cas. Not something I would've expected, but that kinda…" _Shut uuuuup,_ Dean chided himself silently, shaking his head. "That had to hurt like hell, man. Fuck," Dean said, hissing in a breath and clutching his own pecs in sympathy.

Cas chuckled. "It did, but only for a little while." Then, "Were you really just thinking about feeling up my nipple?" he asked, looking far too amused at Dean's discomfort for Dean's liking.

Regardless, Dean was far too embarrassed to summon up a good spiteful glare, his cheeks burning hot now. Fucking A, he may as well just light up a neon sign above his head that says _"I like being your friend, but also wouldn't mind having your dick in my mouth."_

It's one thing to acknowledge attraction when…things…are being done, but it's a whole other when you're just hanging out on the couch getting distracted by your friend's nipples instead of talking about dinner.

Cas chuckled, low and rich, the sound of it not doing a damned thing to help Dean's situation. In an effort to gain some sort of control, Dean coughed, realizing after the fact that it would only make him look even more awkward. Fuck it. Time to just keep on with the blunt; not like his face hadn't told Cas everything he needed to know.

"Can you blame me? I've never seen pierced nipples up close before, and I wasn't thinking for a second there, alright?" Dean said, arms crossed over his chest.

Tilting his head, Cas regarded him for a moment, as if trying to decide something.

"I can understand being fascinated," Cas began with a little nod. "But I also suspect that you disregarded what I said and have overthought things."

Dean laughed nervously, feeling beyond cornered. "You askin' me to be real with you, Cas, or just thinking out loud?"

"I always prefer honesty, when possible," Cas replied.

No going back now.

"Fine. Yeah, I've been thinking, but how could I not? That…that was not a typical round of mutual with a friend, Cas. So what's happening here?" Dean asked, gesturing between them.

"What would you like to be happening here?" Cas countered.

"Oh no you don't, with that evading crap. Because I don't know what the hell is going on, and you're the one being all Zen about everything, so I wanna know what you're thinking," Dean said, wishing he was standing so he could put his hands on his hips for emphasis.

Cas sighed and scratched absently at his jaw. "What do you think of pizza? I'd rather have food in the works if we're going to talk about this."

"Yeah, whatever," Dean grumbled, pulling his laptop off the coffee table. After Cas confirmed that he was fine with meat lovers and Dean had placed the order for delivery, he put the laptop back down and looked at Cas pointedly.

"Dean, I've really enjoyed getting to know you and forming what seems to be a friendship?" Cas asked, waiting for Dean to confirm. When Dean nodded, Cas continued. "But I'll be frank and admit that I'm also attracted to you physically. And as your friend, I suppose that I should disclose that I'm going through some personal things with myself. This isn't a good time for me to date anyone, and what I really need right now is a friend. However, I also don't feel comfortable seeking out one-night stands to satisfy my needs at this time."

Dean listened intently, unsurprised and a bit relieved at Cas' confession, but somehow still unprepared for Cas to just put it out there like that. It was probably some of the most personal information Cas had shared up until then, so even as vague as it was, Dean appreciated it.

"So…what? You're looking for a fuck buddy?" Dean asked.

Cas shook his head, a small frown pinching at his brows. "No, not necessarily. But I wouldn't mind to maybe fall more into the category of 'friends with some benefits,' if that makes sense. For instance, I wouldn't mind to do more of what we did the other day, but I also wouldn't mind if we could just make out sometimes," he said with a little half-shrug. "Not so sure I really want sex, but other things could be nice."

It took Dean a moment to process the information, and when he realized what Cas was saying, his heart sunk a little bit for his friend. Cas was lonely, and just wanting closeness of some sort. But then again, Dean couldn't really blame him; if he were honest with himself, he could use something like that, too. And here was Cas offering it up. It would be mutually beneficial, wouldn't it? Plus, Cas had made it clear that he didn't want to drop their friendship, which was another point in favor of the idea.

"Can we try something right now and see how it feels? Just something small?" Dean asked.

"Okay," Cas said, drawing the word out.

"Come here, then," Dean said, gesturing Cas to scoot closer. When he was about a foot away, Dean stopped him and slouched down into a semi-reclining position, stretching one leg a little bit on the couch. With a pat to his chest, Dean said, "Get comfy with me."

Cas quirked an incredulous brow, obviously not expecting Dean to offer something non-sexual.

Dean rolled his eyes. "You want to be touched, don't you?"

"Yes," Cas drawled, confirming Dean's theory from moments ago.

"Then arrange yourself however you want with me," Dean said simply.

Cas eyeballed Dean speculatively, as if actually planning the best way to cuddle- because really, there's no other word for what Dean was suggesting- before moving hesitantly and maintaining eye contact, just in case Dean changed his mind. Dean had no intention of doing that though, because he'd always like cuddling, and if he could have something like a cuddle-buddy that wouldn't judge him for it, he was damn well going to take advantage of it. Women get to do this kind of thing with each other all the time without judgment, so why couldn't he and Cas?

Balancing himself with one hand on the back of the couch, and the other on the arm of it, Cas nudged Dean's right thigh over a little with his own knee to make room for his own leg, and then slowly lowered himself down. Dean didn't realize he was holding his breath, until Cas had settled his head in the dip below Dean's collarbone, and wrapped his arms around Dean's waist, draping himself over Dean's body. With Cas' added weight, Dean had no choice but to breathe, and let out a deep breath as Cas settled with one thigh between Dean's, and his body somewhat wedged between Dean and the couch.

That coconut and paper smell he'd detected the first time they met drifted up to Dean's nose and was somehow even more comforting, now that he had Cas' warm weight pressed against him. Without even thinking about it, Dean reached down and snaked a hand under the back of Cas' shirt and started scratching lightly at his lower back. And yes, the skin there was just as smooth as he'd imagined it would be. Cas sighed heavily like an old dog getting ready for a snooze, and relaxed his weight even further. Dean huffed a quiet laugh through his nose and squirmed a bit to get himself more comfortable, letting out an 'aaaaah' sound when he found the sweet spot in his own positioning.

They stayed quiet for a minute, both men adjusting to the sensation of being closer than they ever had been up to this point, before Cas decided to break the silence.

"Am I um…am I doing it right?" he asked quietly.

Dean hummed a questioning sound, and Cas huffed at it. "I've never cuddled before," he clarified, voice muffled a bit in Dean's shirt. But then he moved suddenly, to sit up a little more and look Dean in the eye. "I'm not squishing you, am I?"

"No," Dean shook his head. "But really? Never?"

Cas dropped his head to hide his face again, and it was actually pretty endearing. "No, I haven't. I've never had a relationship, so the opportunity never arose."

Dean shrugged. "I don't think there's any right or wrong way to do it, man."

He didn't address the relationship statement, figuring it was none of his business, considering he'd never really had a relationship, either.

Cas nodded, then rubbed his nose against Dean's chest to soothe an itch before dropping his head back down.

"This is nice," he finally offered after a few minutes. "Though probably more suited to taking a nap than just hanging around. You're rather comfortable and warm, and it's making me sleepy."

Dean snorted a laugh, and Cas pushed himself up, indeed looking sleepier than he did when he arrived. He didn't move completely away like Dean expected though, and instead hovered there for a moment, no more than six inches between their faces.

"Since I'm already here," Cas smirked, "mind if we try the making out part?"

Dean swallowed, somehow feeling like Cas was closer with the inches between them, than only seconds ago, when they'd been pressed chest-to-knee. He couldn't help but flick his eyes to Cas' lips, licking his own unconsciously.

"Yeah," Dean said, realizing that he'd had yet to respond, when Cas' smirk became more exaggerated on his lips. But then Dean looked back up to Cas' eyes and gave him an unimpressed look. "Smug ain't a good look on you, Cas."

_Liiiiiiiies._

Instead of responding, Cas just leaned right in, all business as he proceeded to press firm but surprisingly soft lips against Dean's, chuckling into it a little bit at the surprised sound Dean made. Just for that, Dean pulled pack to give him another unimpressed face.

"Don't fucking chuckle when you're trying to impress me, assface. I wasn't expecting it," Dean grumbled, knowing the last part was unnecessary.

Rather than looking appropriately chastened, Cas snorted a laugh at Dean's sheer indignance. "Or what?" he asked challengingly.

Dean pursed his lips, frustrated at not having an answer ready, and irritated at the fact that Cas seemed about a thousand percent more attractive like this, as if flirting and all it entailed was totally within his comfort zone.

"Or…or I'll flick your nipple. I hear they're more sensitive when they've been pierced," Dean said, feeling a bit smug now for having some ammunition.

"Not much incentive there, Dean," Cas smirked again.

Okay, that's it.

Just to prove his point, Dean reached up and flicked Cas' left nipple, not harshly, but definitely not soft enough to feel good.

Cas flinched and hissed. "Ow, goddamn," he cursed, immediately bringing up a protective hand. "Fuck, you weren't kidding."

"Nope," Dean grinned, pleased with himself.

"You're a sadist," Cas accused, looking a bit pouty around the edges.

"Nah. Just a man of my word," Dean winked.

" _You're_ the assface," Cas muttered, sitting back on his heels, where he was still straddling Dean's thigh. Despite the way he was still clutching protectively at his own chest, Cas didn't actually look all that upset.

Dean did laugh at that, and wrapped a hand around Cas' thigh, about mid-way, and squeezed. Hot damn, that was a nice thigh.

"Not gonna deny that. Older brother, remember?" Dean asked, waggling his eyebrows. "But I do kinda like it when you curse. I get the feeling that it's more… _you_ , or something."

There was an odd flash in Cas' eyes at that, that Dean couldn't quite place, but it didn't seem to be anything bad. Just odd. Before either of them could respond to that, the doorbell rang, and Cas gracefully dismounted, getting to his feet so he could go to the kitchen and grab plates and drinks. By the time he got back to the living room, Dean was already back at the couch, inspecting the pizza where it sat on the coffee table.

As if nothing out of the ordinary had transpired, Cas handed Dean a plate and a drink, bent down to grab a couple of slices, and then shuffled over to the other end of the couch where he'd started out. Their conversation went back to normal for them, and even though something had _definitely_ happened, this time, it didn't feel like there was avoidance. It was just Dean and Cas, version 1.5, eating pizza and enjoying each other's company. Having talked it out a bit actually calmed some of the tension down, and Dean felt relaxed for the first time in two days. Maybe Cas was onto something with all his straight-forwardness.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Wanna keep up with my progress? You can find me on [Tumblr](http://surly-cat.tumblr.com), and I tag my writing stuffs with [surlycat writes](http://surly-cat.tumblr.com/tagged/surlycat+writes).


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